What Was Lost
by Alex Foster
Summary: Qulanda from Path of Sins finds herself and her priorities tested when pirates take all that is precious to her. Lost and alone in a maelstrom of things beyond her control, she must find a way to stop the pirates and reclaim what was lost.
1. Lost

Title: What Was Lost

Author: Alex Foster

Category: Action/Adventure

Rating: R (For violence and adult themes, don't say you weren't warned.)

Summary: Qulanda's story did not end with _Path of Sins_. Falling in with a sea captain obsessed with vengeance, Link's guide finds herself and her priorities tested when pirates take all that is precious to her. Lost and alone in a maelstrom of things beyond her control, she must find a way to stop the pirates and reclaim what was lost. A story of the sea, of revenge, and of the lengths obsession will drive one to.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Nintendo. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.

Dedication: This story is dedicated to Lori who always goes far above and beyond the call of duty to make sure I shine.

Author's Notes: This story was a natural progression for me. I knew when I was still working on _Path of Sins_ that I was going to have to expand Qulanda's story, if only for no other eyes but my own. Her character enraptured me and made me curious to learn what happened after she left Link and journeyed to Cape Town. I knew the basics but was unprepared for how emotional it would be to write this story. Terry Brooks once wrote that if a writer doesn't wonder what happened to his or her characters after the story is completed, that writer never cared enough during the writing process and doesn't deserve to know. If that is true, then I can only say this to whatever or whoever sparked the character of Qulanda within me: Thank you for making me care.

I am a proud service support member and that means if you want to receive an email whenever I update this story, just click the little box at the bottom of this page or go to your account and enter the necessary information. Thank you for reading.

* * *

What though the field be lost?

All is not lost; the unconquerable Will,

And study of revenge, immortal hate,

And courage never to submit or yield:

And what else is not to be overcome?

John Milton, _Paradise Lost_

* * *

****

Chapter One – Lost

All sailors have an instinctive fear of fire. Just the smell of smoke was enough to rouse even the most drunken sailor to attention. Qulanda Rinter, former guide through the Wasteland of Canor, inched around the crowd that had gathered by the riverfront for a better look.

It was night and she was far from the nearest street lantern; wrapped in a dark cloak Qulanda moved silently and invisibly around the crowd. Across the narrow river, in one of the wealthier sections of Cape Town, was the fire. Long tongues of flame reached into the black sky from one of the townhouses. The gently moving water before Qulanda reflected the fire. If the fire didn't carry the ability to be so destructive, the sight would have been beautiful.

From her vantagepoint, Qulanda could see the water brigade of citizens that bravely fought the fire. Bucket after bucket they beat the fire back and kept it from spreading to the other nearby townhouses.

"They got it now," one of the crusty sailors in the crowd said. Several other grainy voices agreed and within minutes the crowd started to disperse. Sea salts that time forgot or simply no longer wanted wandered away and vanished into the night.

Qulanda continued to watch. She was not a sailor but knew enough to respect fire. She had seen the destructive nature of fire first hand growing up in her town of Visola. She'd seen businesses ended and families put out by fire.

Qulanda wondered about the family that lived in that townhouse. Was it a young family just starting out, or an old family in the twilight of its existence? Either way, she knew, tomorrow morning would bring confusion, anger, and terrible sadness.

The dark clad woman watched from underneath the cowl of her hood for several more moments, the firelight catching the sadness in her eyes she felt for the victims, and then turned back to the darkness.

Cape Town, like many of the port cities in Hyrule and Calatia, was set up in a spiral pattern around the waterways. To one side of Cape Town was the Great Hyrulian Sea and to the other was the Werth River. The mighty river that bisected the entire Wasteland of Canor cut through the center of Cape Town before emptying into the sea. That watery line of division separated more than just the north and south parts of town; it was the line between poor and rich.

At some time in the town's history, the flow of rupees had shifted decidedly to the north. The merchants and ship owners that brought money and life to the city all settled in the north while the dockworkers, laborers, sailors, and other assorted dregs went south. The obvious advantages of money were readily apparent in the north: lanterns set on poles along each street, stronger presence of the civil guard, coaches for hire, and busy restaurants and theaters. The southside was dirty, dark, and unsafe. It was the place people came to take part in unscrupulous deeds.

Less obvious, however, was the fact that most of the rupees flowing into the north had since dried up. The water lanes going to Calatia and the islands surrounding Canor were no longer secure. Pirates had been plundering shipping boats and were slowly killing Cape Town.

Walking along the Werth River on the southside of town, Qulanda didn't care about any of that. Her business in Cape Town had nothing to do with stopping the piracy; she wanted only to find her missing lover, Penda Frye. A fellow guide, Penda had taken a job escorting young men down the Werth so they could find work. Once in Cape Town, Penda had written Qulanda saying that she was going to stay for a while and earn enough rupees for them to leave their village forever. Her letters stopped, however, and she effectively vanished not long after saying that she was going to help stop the pirates.

All Qulanda had ever wanted was to live quietly with Penda somewhere free of judgement and persecution. She didn't care where, or how they lived, just so they were together. The time apart had hardened Qulanda, but she remained true to one cause: find Penda and bring her home.

Qulanda turned away from the river and began working her way into the mazelike street system of the southside. The money she had earned from her last job would allow her to stay in one of the better inns on the northside, but the type of people she needed to contact for information were found only in the south.

Qulanda moved down one dark street after another without thought. She had been in this town for months and had quickly learned her way around. A by-product of her years spent as a guide. The clop of her boots against the worn cobblestones mixed with the sounds of beggars crying out for money, coughing and vomiting coming from deeper in the darkness, and the grunting of prostitutes hard at work in the alleyways. The odors of sickness, alcohol, vomit, and human waste permeated the entire southside. Qulanda was used to that, too.

The last corner Qulanda had to take before she reached the inn that was now home to her was one of the few still sparsely lit. An old street lamp with the glass windows around the wick long since broken stood on the corner. It was a miracle that anyone in the civil guard remembered to light it every night.

A small part of Qulanda saw that lone lamp as a welcoming beacon guiding her home. Another part wondered how she could ever see this ghetto as home. Tonight, however, there was someone standing underneath her beacon.

Qulanda saw the stranger long before the woman saw her. The woman was short with slightly lighter hair than Qulanda's raven hair. She was younger by a good number of years and wore too much makeup. And she was clad only in Calatian lingerie that might at one time been fine. She was a working girl.

Qulanda frowned and moved to walk around the prostitute, skirting the edge of the light. The woman caught sight of her then and came to attention.

"Hey there," she said with a heavy Calatian accent. "Lookin' for a good time, sweetie?"

"No, thanks," Qulanda mumbled and kept walking.

The prostitute grabbed the former guide's arm as she passed. "I'll give ya the best price around." The tip of her pink tongue touched her top lip. "Might even throw in a couple of free extras."

Qulanda smiled grimly to herself and turned to the woman. "I don't think I'm the type of customer for you." She raised her voice and pushed the cowl of her hood back. "I'm a woman."

"Oh...Well, we've got needs, too." The hand on Qulanda's shoulder worked its way slowly higher. "I ain't choosy."

Qulanda's eyes widened in surprise. The prostitute's lack of concern shocked her...and the feelings the woman's touch was stirring in her. It had been a long time since she and Penda had lain together—and there hadn't been anyone else before her. Qulanda missed the closeness of another person when falling asleep at night.

Despite her vow to Penda, Qulanda's body began responding to the prospect of escaping the empty feelings of loneliness, if only for a little while. The prostitute, seeing the response in Qulanda's blue eyes, smiled a full smile and stepped closer. "I have a place not far from here. What do ya say we go for a walk?"

Confusion tore through Qulanda. Her feelings overwhelmed her...and the fact that she could feel such things for anyone but Penda. She wanted to run away as fast as her legs could carry her, but couldn't make herself move. 'Penda, if you find her, would never know,' a voice whispered in her mind. Was it really that bad if she allowed herself to feel something beside sadness and loss?

Drawing a deep, shaky breath, Qulanda pulled away from the prostitute's touch. "I don't think so," she said. "I'm committed."

The woman's smile didn't waver. "I really don't care."

"I do." Turning sharply around, Qulanda rushed forward and let the darkness close around her. She ran and did not stop until she reached the Grinning Goat Inn—and home.

* * *

Qulanda rushed into her small room at the Grinning Goat and slammed the door behind her. She paused and leaned against the door for a long moment, enjoying the comfort the darkness offered. The former guide trembled from the aftereffects of her run and from the emotions she was feeling.

Qulanda pushed off the door and walked deeper into the room. She moved easily through the darkness, instinctively sidestepping the cheap, mismatched furnishings, and reached the lamp on the bedside table. She fumbled twice with the striker but finally managed to light the wick.

She raised the flame and left the lamp on the table. The long-term rooms for rent in the Grinning Goat were low on fineries and high on functionality. A narrow loveseat with holes in its cushions and a wooden chair with a leg that was slightly shorter than the other three were the only furnishings in the main room. A small hearth that barely could hold a reasonable size log sat tucked in the corner, almost as if it were an afterthought. The sleeping area had only a short bed that felt lumpy and looked older than the wasteland.

Qulanda removed her cloak and threw it over the back of her crooked chair. She collapsed on the loveseat and let her head rest between two rat-chewed holes. The lamp in the other room cast a long wedge of light that reached just to the old chair. Qulanda watched that shaft of light for a long while before finally closing her eyes.

She wanted to pretend that the incident outside hadn't happened, but could not get the fresh memories out of her mind. Even though she hadn't done anything wrong, Qulanda felt that she had. She had allowed herself to imagine a world where Penda was gone forever.

That was something she could never do again.

Failure, in this, was not something Qulanda would ever stand for. Although none of her leads had expanded to anything promising, it was only a matter of time.

Sleep was just beginning to play with the edge of Qulanda's consciousness when the door was thrown open and the presence of another person flooded her senses.

In a blink, Qulanda was on her feet and fumbling to remove the small crossbow from her belt.

"It is just me," a voice rumbled gently.

"Duena." Qulanda relaxed visibly. "I thought you weren't going to be back until tomorrow."

"Yes," the eight-foot Goron rock giant said. "But I encountered a person you must meet." After Qulanda stopped working as a guide to come to Cape Town, Duena, one of her former charges, had asked to come with her. Despite her large size, and sometimes awkward bearing, Duena had proven to be a loyal friend and good traveling companion. And the five-foot long Goron knife strapped to her bony back didn't hurt to have along during shady negotiations either.

Qulanda wiped sleep from her eyes. "Who is it?" she asked.

"I do not know his name," the Goron replied, "but he asked for you."

"Me? But no one outside of Link knows I'm here."

Duena's exoskeleton rose in a Goron version of a shrug. "Apparently, he does."


	2. Compass

****

Chapter Two – Compass

The common room of the Grinning Goat was a long, low dimly lit room. A bar ran most of the length of the room and there was little free space at it. Despite the hour the tavern was filled end to end with old sailors, thieves, smugglers, mercenaries, and panderers. The air was heavy with the smell of strong whiskey and watery ale. The sounds of riotous laughter and heated negotiations with shady individuals assaulted Qulanda's ears as she left the protection of her room.

She had left her cloak behind to more prominently display the crossbow hanging from her belt; one flaunted protection at night in the Grinning Goat Inn. Duena walked beside her, a lumbering and well-armed shadow.

"There he is," the Goron said. "In the blue coat."

Qulanda ignored the lecherous calls aimed in her direction and started for the man at the table Duena had indicated. He was a man of average height, clean shaven, with thinning brown hair. He was perhaps around thirty, slightly younger than Qulanda. He was clad in dark trousers and a coat that was open revealing a white shirt that had seen better days. A tankard of ale sat in front of him.

He stood when he noticed her approach. "Ma'am," he said in an unaccented voice. "Are you the one asking about pirate attacks?"

"That's right," she said honestly. After failing to find anyone that remembered Penda, Qulanda had begun looking into which ships her lover might have gone out on when she vanished. "I'm Qulanda Rinter."

"Ron Tibs," the man said, gesturing to the chair across from him. "Sit, please."

Qulanda nodded once to Duena and sat across from Tibs. "Do you have some information for me?"

"Actually, you might have some for me," he said. "The pirates have a main staging base somewhere near here. I thought you might have learned where it is. If anyone knew, it would be you," he quickly added.

"I have heard some rumors," Qulanda answered slowly, confused. "But I don't see what that has to do with you or why you are here."

Tibs licked his lips with a quick dart of his tongue. "I think we can help each other," he said. "I have a ship, a fairly large one, and a crew that wants to fight. We want to join you and go to the staging base and cut the head of these pirates off."

Qulanda blinked in surprise. "I, ah—"

"I know there are a lot of pirates," Tibs said. "But my crew is a good one and each man will fight with the strength of two men."

"I think you have mistaken me for someone else," she said. "I don't want to go anywhere. That's not why I'm here."

"We haven't been in port long, but as soon as we started asking for help attacking the pirates, you were the one we were directed to. Few would offer any real help—the pirates have them terrorized—but they said there was a woman staying around here that had the same goals as ours. They also said that she knew how hard it was to drum up support for an attack and would be sympathetic."

Qulanda couldn't even begin to fathom how anyone would circulate her name through the town like that. "Look, if this is some sort of scam—"

"It's not!" Tibs' eyes were wide with surprise. "I'm captain of the _Isabo_. We're independent traders and shippers between here and Calatia. Your friend even saw our ship and talked with some of her crew. I'm not trying to trick you."

Qulanda glanced over her shoulder at Duena, and received a nod of confirmation. She looked back to Tibs and considered the young captain. His speech was clearly not that of one that had spent a great deal of time in the southside. While his clothes were aged, they were still far better than those worn by most of the other people in the tavern. And his bearing had far too much innocence in it to have been a sea captain long.

"How long have you headed the _Isabo_?" Qulanda asked suddenly.

Tibs sipped his ale. "Less than a month," he answered. "We were jumped by pirates about three days out from our last port of call. We resisted, but they had caught us by surprise. They approached under the yellow flag of trade. They were on board looking at goods before the first sword was even drawn.

"They killed our captain and his second before emptying out our hold. They made off with everything. That's why my crew wants revenge so badly. They robbed us of our captain, first mate, and livelihood.

"I need your help finding where those murdering bastards are, but I'll go without you if I have to. You learned where the base is, and so can I. But that will take time we don't have. The attacks are getting worse.

"In the beginning, they would never kill. Sometimes they would take prisoners for slave labor, yes, but never would they cut the throat of a defenseless captain. Someone must stop them before it gets even worse. Will you help me?"

Qulanda opened her mouth to speak but it was a long moment before any sound came out. "Give me a minute to decide," she said finally. She pushed to her feet and walked away from the table. Smartly, Duena followed.

"What do you think?" Qulanda asked when they were away from Tibs' earshot.

"I believe his tale," the Goron said. "And if we cannot find Penda here, then perhaps we should find the people she herself sought. If we find them we could find her as well."

Qulanda nodded. She had thought the same thing. Plus, what Tibs said about slave labor weighed on her mind. She had a sudden flash of Penda forced into bondage in a prison camp run by pirates.

"I'll tell him." Qulanda moved to turn away but stopped when another thought occurred to her. "In all the journeying you've done around this city, Duena, have you ever heard my name mentioned?"

"No," her tall companion answered. "Though I never asked about you or your crusade."

"Of course." Qulanda walked back to the waiting sea captain. He stood when she approached. "When can we sail?" she asked without preamble.

Ron Tibs smiled a full smile. "Tomorrow."

* * *

"You really don't have to come with me, Duena."

"I know, but I wish to."

The two were walking along the northside pier among a crowd of deckhands rushing to get back to their ships, merchants trying to book passage on one of the few remaining ships that would sail the dangerous waters, and out of work sailors hoping to find space, and a job, on one of the departing ships.

The northside pier was a long and wide boardwalk that encircled most of the influential areas of Cape Town. Here lower and upper class mingled freely. Qulanda looked to her left and saw the Werth River gently lapping against the dock and the many ships berthed there. Fear of the raids had kept many of the captains from risking their ships for the small amount of rupees a standard cargo run pulled in.

Captain Tibs was right about the attacks becoming more aggressive, she knew. News spread around that the night before the pirates attacked a ship just ten miles from the mouth of the Werth, burning the ship and killing all hands. The fear felt by the people and sailors milling about the dock was palpable. Qulanda understood even better the trouble Tibs must have had recruiting help for his strike back against the pirates.

"Are you sure you will be able to stand it out there?" she asked her Goron companion. "I know how your people feel about water."

"Yes," Duena said softly. "We do fear water, but I have already faced my greatest fear and emerged stronger from it. I do not believe the sea will frighten me."

"The sea should frighten everyone, Duena. That's the _Isabo_ up there." She pointed to a large vessel moored to the dock. It was a Spray class cargo ship with three tall masts, nets tied and rolled along her hull, and the yellow flag of a trader proudly flying above the crowsnest.

"Ahoy!" Tibs called from the foredeck.

Qulanda waved. "Permission to come aboard, captain?"

Tibs grabbed one of the many ties running up the masts and swung closer to the edge of the deck. "Granted, granted. We've been waiting for you." He gestured to the gangplank.

Qulanda nodded and resumed walking. "This is your last chance, Duena. Back out now for my sake."

"I cannot let you make this dangerous journey alone." The Goron fell easily in step with the former guide.

"No offense, my friend, but I've been journeying alone for some time now." Qulanda started up the plank to the waiting Tibs.

The gangplank groaned underneath Duena's weight but held. They reached the deck without incident.

"Welcome aboard," Tibs said.

"Thank you." Qulanda spared a glance around. A handful of deckhands worked the anchor windlass, manned the tiller, and readied the ship for travel. Without any crates of cargo strapped to the deck, the ship looked abnormally wide. This was a cargo vessel that was now being asked to become a fighting vessel.

Tibs' gaze took in Qulanda and Duena's shoulder packs. "Is this all your gear?" he asked. "Are you ready to leave?"

Qulanda gave Duena a glance. "We're ready. Sail at your discretion, captain."

Tibs nodded and turned on his heel. "Recall the plank!" he called. "Ready the sails! Marcus, as soon as the moorings are clear, ahead south. Make for the mouth of the Werth."

A wizened sailor with skin like worn leather and a red bandana around his head nodded from the behind the wheel. The sailor looked away and began issuing orders to the helmsmen around him.

"That's my first mate," Tibs said. "Before the attack, he was just a mid-class sailor, but he's been around long enough to know how things are done. If you need anything, Qulanda, and can't find me, go to him."

Qulanda said that she understood and followed him as he led her across the deck.

"I've already had one of the old officer cabins converted for you two," the captain continued. "But first I have some maps I want you to look at in my quarters. We have to decide our course before we reach the end of the Werth."

"How long will that be, Captain Tibs?" Duena asked.

Tibs smiled over his shoulder. "The _Isabo_'s got legs, Goron. She'll get us where we want to go, and do it quickly."

Once below the deck, Tibs expertly led them through the narrow corridors to a companionway and then down to a cabin. The room was more spacious than most shared bunkrooms, but nowhere near the size Qulanda had expected for the captain's quarters. Next to a neat bunk was a small table with overlapped maps on it. Bookshelves, nailed to the walls, had books of all sizes adorned on them. The room smelled strongly of ink and old paper.

"This is your cabin?" Qulanda blurted in surprise.

Tibs rounded the table and bent to study the topmost map. "That's right." He smiled sadly without looking up. "Captain Craine was the true captain of the _Isabo_. I'm just a keeper of his ship. I'm just one of the remaining few that can fight."

"Oh." Qulanda joined him at the table and watched out of the corner of her eye as Duena studied the books on the shelves.

"You have studied Hylian mythology," Duena said, holding up a book.

"A little," Tibs answered.

"Then you are aware of the origin of this ship's name?"

Tibs smiled slightly. "That I am. Let's just hope history doesn't repeat itself." He took up a greasestick and marked two parallel arcing lines on the map. "This is where the Werth and the Great Hyrulian Sea meet," he said. "The focus of the attacks have been here, here, and here."

He drew three more lines. "Now, I figure that they have to have their base somewhere within a few days of the center of these attacks. For these hit and fade attacks, I doubt they would burden themselves with very many supplies."

Qulanda nodded. "My contacts mentioned islands. More specifically, a Shield Wall. Do you know where that is?"

"Let's see." Tibs dug for a moment in the pile of maps and finally withdrew one made yellow with age and covered in stains. The cartography was much cruder on this map, but it did show a closer view of the Canor coast, several miles south of the Werth drainage.

Using the greasestick as a pointer, Tibs bent closer and searched the map. "Right here. It's barely charted, but there's a Shield Wall encircling the end of the Lost Brother island column." The captain's brown-eyed gaze was cold when it touched Qulanda's. "We have them."

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a rush of settling in, meeting various members of the crew, and getting used to ship life. Qulanda found that once the ship was away from its moorings, the pitching of the deck became much more noticeable. Qulanda had a rough couple of hours learning how to walk without embarrassing herself when the floor kept moving, and the whole crew experienced a moment of terror when Duena said she felt nauseous. No one wanted to see a Goron with a bad stomach.

Rilley, the resident mess cook, had fixed some sort of vile smelling concoction for Duena, claiming it was an old sailor's remedy. After several tense moments, Rilley's potion worked and Duena said she was feeling better. More than one sailor had applauded the cook for that feat.

Presently, Qulanda stood on the deck of the _Isabo_, watching the water rush by and the distant shoreline seemingly creep along. Night had fallen but the full moon, high in the sky, provided more than enough light. The moonlight reflected in every dip and crest of the water beyond the ship, creating thousands of tiny shards of bluish white light.

Deckhands moved here and there behind her, but they were mostly navvies and didn't give her a second look. Cool wind pushed at Qulanda's dark cloak and hair. She enjoyed the solitude, but was also quite aware of the sense of isolation that never seemed far away.

"Are you watching for mermaids?" a voice asked behind her.

Qulanda looked over her shoulder. It was Duena. "Excuse me?"

"An expression I heard from one of the sailors in Cape Town. I am not wholly sure of its meaning, however."

Qulanda looked back to the passing water. "Legends of the sea, Duena. Mermaids are beautiful half-women—they are considered good luck. According to myth, the harder you search for a mermaid, the harder it is to find one." Even Qulanda had to smile at that irony.

"Oh." Duena looked stricken. "I have upset you. Please forgive me."

Qulanda shook her head. "You haven't done anything to me. I'm just in a mood tonight, I guess. I can't be sure if I'm traveling closer to my destination or further from it."

"My people believe that the journey itself is the destination. There is no wrong direction if you continue to learn."

"I'm tired of learning," Qulanda said. "I have learned how to be a guide alone, how to survive in a town that didn't want me, how to milk information from shadows, and how to sleep with a empty chasm in the bed beside me." She turned and met Duena's gaze. "I'm tired of working toward a goal and never knowing just how far away it is. How much faith can one person have?"

The Goron shook her large head. "I have no answer for that question. However, I do know from traveling with you for a great deal of time that you are one of the most faithful members of your species." She blinked several times as she thought. "I have not seen you pray since I returned with Captain Tibs. Are you loosing faith in the Holy Spirits of the Light as well as yourself?"

Qulanda winced and looked away. "I don't know. I just haven't felt...peaceful enough to pray."

"I have seen you draw peace from your religion," Duena said. "I do not believe the Spirits would care if you brought them your pain to relieve."

Qulanda smiled faintly. "You are a most interesting travel companion, my friend."

"I...do try," she said slowly, echoing something Link said often.

Qulanda's smile turned into a chuckle. Her dark mood had begun to lift, for a time anyway. They stood in silence for several long minutes, taking in the sight of the moonlight and water. "You mentioned something about this ship's name to Tibs," she said finally. "What was that about?"

"I noticed a Hylian mythology book in the captain's cabin," Duena explained. "It was similar to one bought by the head of my tribe so those dealing with visiting traders could learn Hylian. It is a collection of stories, one of which tells of the holy messenger Isabo."

"And it ends badly?"

"The story tells of a great war between two peoples. After much fighting, the leaders of both sides wished for a truce. So much distrust had grown between either side that no messenger could travel into their opponent's encampment, even if underneath a white banner of peace.

"The leaders asked the Goddesses for help and they sent Isabo, one of their best messengers, to aid the leaders. Isabo took messages back and forth and helped establish a neutral ground where the leaders could talk peace.

"Once there, however, one of the sons of the leaders drew his knife and tried to assassinate the opposite leader. Isabo stepped in front of the leader and took the blade for him. Both sides were so shocked by the spilled blood of a holy messenger that they agreed to a truce, fearing the vengeance of the Goddesses if they did not.

"The Goddesses then took Isabo and gave him a place in the legends as payment for what they had done to him. They knew he would have to give his life for his message, you see. It was a sacrifice that saved many lives. In Hylian, the name Isabo means 'bearer of sadness.'"

Qulanda did not like that story. Not at all. "Why would anyone name a ship after that?"

"I do not know. Perhaps it is as you Hylians say, a sense of irony?"

"Well, I think I've had enough irony for one day." Qulanda turned and started for the hatch. "You coming?"

"No, I do not require as much rest as you." Duena paused. "You will then have the solitude to pray, if you so wish."

Qulanda smiled ruefully. "Thank you, Duena. Try to rest though because I think we are going to need to be sharp for the days to come. I doubt they will be much fun."

The Goron could offer no disagreement to that.


	3. Chaos

****

Chapter Three – Chaos

The bow of the _Isabo_ cleared the crest of a large wave and plunged back down into the seemingly bottomless depths of the Great Hyrulian Sea. The deck pitched steeply as the massive cargo ship began climbing yet another wave.

Five days out from the Werth, the _Isabo_ continued its journey across the perfectly blue and tranquil water. Sitting by herself near the stern, Qulanda knew that tranquility was not by any means a certainty. Out here the weather could change in a blink and inundate them with heavy rain, whipping wind, and choppy water.

For the meantime, however, the sun was shining around large puffy clouds, the air was pleasant, and the water calm. Marcus stood behind the wheel on the command deck while deckhands moved about the main deck, doing chores and enjoying the day. Few crewmembers were below deck today. It was as though everyone could sense that something terrible was approaching and had jointly decided to enjoy the peace while it was still there.

Despite the flux of crew about the deck, Qulanda was out of the way and along the stern railing. She had found an old cargo container empty of everything save for cobwebs and converted it into a temporary bench. Beside her was an open pouch.

Like just about everyone else on the ship, her gaze focused on the figure of Duena as she stood on the foredeck. The Goron stood with her large legs shoulder-length apart, sword drawn, and eyes closed. Using slow, deliberant movements, Duena brought her massive knife around and began dancing the forms of the blade. Just as Link had taught her, she moved through each form with hard wrought skill.

This was different than seeing the forms danced while in combat; this was precise training to use the blade efficiently. To use it better than an opponent, and, if necessary, use it to kill.

Qulanda turned her attention away from her companion and focused on the sailors watching the Goron.

"—she been at it for more than an hour," said one sailor.

"Yeah, how long can she keep it up?"

"You ever seen a Goron with that much dedication to blademastery?" said another.

"Why would a Goron even need to know that?"

Qulanda smiled grimly to herself. She knew why Duena was so committed. The Goron saw blademastery as another step in her 'journey' to find her true self. She had asked Link to begin teaching her while the three of them traveled through the Wasteland of Canor to better understand Hylian customs. At the end of the trip, however, the skills Duena had learned ended up saving a lot of lives—Qulanda's included. Since then, Duena had doubled her efforts to master every blade form. And, from what Qulanda saw of the Goron's endurance and control, she was well on her way.

Absently, Qulanda reached into the pouch at her side, withdrew a seed the size of her thumbnail, flicked the husk off, and popped the seed in her mouth.

"Ahoy there!" a voice called to her. It was Tibs. "What are you doing all the way over here?"

Qulanda watched as the captain, still in clad in the same faded blue uniform, approached her. "I enjoy the solitude," she said.

Tibs chuckled and stopped just short of makeshift chair. He seemed to wait for an invitation to join her, seeing none though, he remained at an arm's length. "That does seem to be true. Most people complain about how crowded ship life is, but you always seem to find the empty areas."

"I think they are made for me," she told him. "Your crew doesn't trust me."

"Of course they do." Tibs looked genuinely shocked by the idea. "Unless someone has said something to you...if that's the case give me his name."

Qulanda shook her head and reached for another cienut. "It's not like that, but I do know the signs." She spoke around chewing. "These boys just don't know what to make of a black clad Hylian and her blademaster Goron. It's perfectly understandable."

"I don't believe that. I hope the time will come when you see this crew and ship in a more welcoming light."

"I'm not going to be here long enough for that," she said. "Once you've taken your vengeance, or sooner than that if possible, my search will continue and our ways will part."

Tibs looked sadden by that. Qulanda thought again that this man didn't look or act like her idea of a sea captain. Perhaps he had seen so much of his crew lost to pirates that the idea of losing any others was too much for him.

"We're almost there," she said, changing the subject. "What's the plan?"

"Wait in the rough areas around the island," Tibs said, "and we attack once the main ship is unguarded."

"And if it isn't left unguarded...?"

Tibs shook his head. "In all the raids, there have never been more than four ships each. Now, we figured that at least one ship would have to stay in port to watch over prisoners and booty."

Qulanda ate another cienut. "Okay, say that happens, say the pirate leader decides that day to stay in port, say you win, what then? What about all the pirates in the port, and what about the other four ships?"

"We deal with them when the time comes," Tibs said slowly. "And as for the captain being in port...well, some things you just have to take on faith."

Qulanda couldn't contain the snort at those words. "You are going to get these kids killed, Captain Tibs."

The innocent expression he always seemed to carry suddenly drained from his face. "Many of these 'kids' already think of themselves as dead, Qulanda. Without this ship running cargo, they have no income, no home, no lives. We made this decision together. We are going to attack and kill the head of this gang that is preying on shipping vessels."

"And the organization will just die when the leader dies?"

"Every beast has a heart," Tibs said with absolute conviction. "Stop the heart and you kill the beast."

"Don't be so sure about that," Qulanda said knowingly.

Tibs frowned and opened his mouth to speak but a cry from the command deck cut him off: "Imps ahoy! Imps ahoy!"

The captain's eyes went wide and he spun on his heel and started for the raised deck. Confused, Qulanda jumped from her perch and followed him. "What is it?"

"Stay here." Tibs took the steps leading to the command deck two at a time. He grabbed a pair of fieldglasses from one of the helmsmen, put them to his eyes, and began sweeping back and forth, looking for the source of the alarm.

Qulanda turned and saw the deckhands abandoning their games and conversations in favor of securing hatches and manning critical stations. Men threw chests open revealing stacks of sabers. Older crewmembers gathered those swords and began handing them out to the other deckhands. Within moments, non-essential personnel were ushered below deck and many of the remaining sailors were armed—though many of them looked as they had never before touched a sword.

Through her confusion, Qulanda had to wonder if this was the brave crew Tibs promised would fight with the might of two to one.

Sword still bare, Duena marched across the bustling deck. "What is wrong?" she asked.

"I don't know. Someone up there raised an alarm and Captain Tibs hasn't offered any explanation."

For almost five minutes, the only sound was the scattered whispering of tense crewmembers and the beating of wind against the canvas sails. High above the deck, the yellow flag of independent traders waved proudly in the breeze. The _Isabo_ continued her course through the blue water without obstruction.

One of the young deckhands suddenly let free a cry and backed away from the railing. "I saw one!" he yelled. "It was red!"

People started muttering at that bit of information.

"Okay," Qulanda said. "I want answers." She turned and began climbing the stairs to the command deck.

"Wait!" Duena's hand on her arm stopped Qulanda. "We are not allowed up there."

Qulanda shook off the hand. "Fine. You stay down here and teach these kids how to hold a sword." Without another word, she climbed to the upper level of the main deck.

Tibs spotted her and sighed. "I told you to wait below. In fact, you shouldn't even be on the main deck. Go wait in your cabin until we sound the all clear."

"Like the Light I will," Qulanda said. "What's going on? Pirates?"

Tibs shook his head. "Water imps. Nasty little buggers that can breath air for a short amount of time. They like to harass ships and steal food or shiny objects."

"What do they eat?" Qulanda scanned the surrounding water but could see nothing abnormal.

"Whatever they can drag back into the water with them," Tibs answered, also glancing at the water. "Sailors have been lost to them. There are two kinds of imps: red and green. The green will leave you alone if you can frighten them, but the red are dogged—and mean."

"Perfect." Qulanda pulled her crossbow free and checked the bolt loaded in the spring stock. "How long do you have before—"

A loud splash and the sound of something wet hitting the deck cut her off. For a moment, she thought someone had fallen over board—but then realized that something had _come_ aboard.

She turned and saw a water imp standing on the foredeck. It was a hunched monster, perhaps five feet tall at best. It was red and covered in a mixture of scales and loose rolls of fat. Its head was triangular with no visible nose and a wide mouth filled with pointy teeth.

The imp snapped at the air a few times and then charged the nearest sailor. It had sinewy legs and moved in a leaping run across the deck. The young sailor—Wilx, Qulanda thought his name was—responded in fright and brought his sword to bear. The imp slammed into the sword and impaled himself. Making horrible gurgling sounds, the dying creature fell to the deck. Wilx, looking even more terrified, backed away from the imp and his saber still protruding from its chest.

"All hands to arms!" Tibs called out. Several members of the crew echoed the order. "Stand ready for them, boys. There's going to be a couple dozen at least."

"At least," Qulanda murmured, raising her crossbow. Below the command deck, Duena held her sword at an easy position, looking calm and ready for a fight—just like Link had taught her.

A double splash sounded and two more imps stood on board the _Isabo_. A sailor stepped forward and swung wide at one of the creatures, but missed and nearly threw himself to the deck with his momentum. The imp knocked the sword away from the downed sailor with a powerful backhand. It sneered, showing a mouthful of yellow teeth, and moved to grab the boy.

Qulanda stared down the length of her crossbow several yards away. She didn't hear the sounds of even more imps landing, or the frightened yells of the crew, as she aimed. For a brief moment, all was quiet and there was nothing in the world but her, the imp, and the sailor between them.

Knowing she had the shot, Qulanda pulled the release. With a whistle that split the air, the quarrel raced to its target. It shot past the sailor, missing him by mere inches, and slammed into the imp's chest. White frothy blood sputtered and the creature fell back against the railing.

Without waiting to watch her accuracy, Qulanda pulled another bolt free and loaded it into the crossbow. One did not survive the Wasteland of Canor without knowing how to use a weapon.

She spun on her heel, raised the bow, and let another quarrel free. The imp straight in line with her fell overboard with the butt end of a bolt protruding from its right eye socket. As she reloaded, Qulanda caught a surprised look from Captain Tibs. She offered him a shrug and then began searching for another target.

All about the deck combat raged. There were more than a dozen imps on board now. Sailors, some barely managing not to hurt themselves, swung rusty sabers in defense of their ship. Marcus, the first mate, had procured a spear from somewhere and swung it with the expertise of a seasoned veteran as he fought beside the deckhands.

Two imps came forward toward the first mate. Marcus let free a battle cry and charged. He angled to the side at the last moment and drove the butt end of the spear into the gut of one of the imps. As that creature doubled over, Marcus reversed his swing and thrust the blade deep into the second imp's chest.

The first imp recovered faster than Marcus had obviously anticipated. It grabbed the first mate from behind and began moving back to the railing. The strong sailor struggled in that slimy grip, but could not overpower the imp.

Another quarrel flew from the command deck and caught that imp in the throat. It was a hard shot, one that came dangerously close to Marcus' jugular, but one that counted. The imp dropped gurgling to the deck. Marcus disengaged himself from the powerful arms of the creature, pulled his spear free, and finished the dying imp off. He snapped a quick salute to Qulanda and then rushed back into the fray.

In the front of the ship, moving with fluid motions, was Duena. Her blade cut a path through the imps surrounding her. There was no wasted movement in her slashes. Each cut lobbed off a hand, head, or leg of the imps attacking her. The deck was awash in white blood around the Goron. Not a single imp made it within a hand's breadth of her. The sword skills of the sailors around her looked even sloppier and careless compared to her display of mastery.

Duena flipped her sword from her right hand to her left, popped that wrist into its double joint, and stabbed an imp coming up behind her. Without breaking stride, she pulled her sword free, spun, letting her right leg twist in a way that would have broken a Hylian leg, and took the head of another charging imp.

Qulanda fired a bolt and grabbed another from her quiver. Tad, another sailor not much older than Wilx, was grabbed from behind and pulled overboard before Qulanda's bolt could catch up with his attacker. The kid's screams ended with a double splash.

One of the sailors fighting near Duena doubled over from a jab to his gut and had his saber knocked from his hands. The attacking imp slipped a sinewy arm around his shoulders and they were over the railing in a blink.

With that man gone from the line defending the command deck, imps suddenly pushed forward. Duena continued her blade dancing, but was unable to stop all of them from getting through.

Tibs drew a rusty saber from the scabbard at his waist. "Don't let them take the command deck," he cried. "For the _Isabo_!" He and several other officers moved forward like a wave and rushed to meet the threat of imps.

Qulanda fired and reloaded as fast as her fingers would allow. Thrice she slipped and sliced open her index finger on the cord. Blood stained both her quarrels and bow.

Tibs and the other officers showed slightly more aptitude with their swords than the deckhands did. His line of officers ran head long into the line of approaching imps. Marcus had survived and was at his captain's side, ready to defend the shipmaster. Imps fell before the officers' blades.

Moving quickly in that half run, half jump was a second line of imps. Duena swung at the imps that flooded past her, but missed them all. Shoulder to shoulder, the command staff of the _Isabo_ stepped toward the approaching imps. Qulanda let quarrel after quarrel free. Reaching blindly into the quiver at her waist, her numb fingers touched cloth before finding the butt of a bolt. She spared a glance down. Only a small handful of bolts remained in the quiver.

The second line of imps jumped high into the air just before the command staff reached them. They came down behind the officers and spun about with blinding speed. Tibs and his fellow officers struggled to recover from the surprising strategy.

One member of the staff that Qulanda had never learned the name of responded just a hair too slow and two imps tackled him. He went down screaming, his sword flying from his hands. The imps locked their jaws around his throat like a wild dog with a fresh kill. There was a brief spurt of blood and then the screams stopped.

Tibs yelled and swept his saber across the imps standing atop the fallen officer. The rusty sword opened the imps from their necks down to hindquarters. White blood flew everywhere, mixing with the already spreading red blood.

The horror of it all battered Qulanda's mind into a benumbed state. The world save for her crossbow, the remaining bolts, and the imps in front of her faded away. With cold precision, she raised the bow and again and again fired.

One imp took a quarrel in the chest and went down dead. Another caught a bolt in the throat and thrashed around on the stained deck helplessly for several minutes before finally suffocating. Two took quarrels in the eyes and went down instantly.

Even with their limited intelligence, the imps recognized Qulanda for the threat she presented to them. Save for Duena, she had killed more imps than any other on board. Breaking away from the officers, two imps closest to the command deck turned and jumped up the flight of stairs leading to the deck.

Backpedaling, Qulanda raised her bow and fired at point blank range. The quarrel hit the chest of the imp on her left with so much force it nearly passed completely through. That imp staggered and dropped. The one on the right kept coming.

Qulanda reached into her quiver and found nothing but cloth. She was out of bolts. The former guide spun and broke out in a desperate dash across the command deck. A wet clop close behind told her that the imp was giving chase. At the far end of the deck, Qulanda jumped, let her boot touch the railing, and then pushed off again. She landed hard on the stern of the _Isabo_. The raised command deck and the full sails high above shaded the stern in deep shadows.

Qulanda quickly recovered from her fall and continued running. Most of the fighting seemed to have moved updeck. There were obviously too few imps left to attack both ends of the ship and they had focused their remaining forces to the front. Qulanda's gaze desperately searched for something she could use as a weapon. She'd even take a discarded sword and risk cutting her hand off while using it.

Ropes, canvases, planks of wood, and barrels littered the deck. Nothing useful. Qulanda tried looking for a missed quarrel or a downed imp that she could retrieve a bolt from. Either the crewmembers had tossed the dead imps overboard, or the remaining imps had reclaimed them. Qulanda swore heatedly.

The imp from the command deck dropped down behind the former guide. Qulanda spun and instinctively brought her bow to bear. Maybe she could threaten the creature into backing off...

The five-foot animal that smelled like rotten seaweed was not intimidated however. It lashed out with one of its powerful arms and knocked the bow from her hands. The weapon tumbled through the air and hit the base of one of the three masts. There was a _crack_ sound and the crossbow fell to the deck in two pieces.

Qulanda had only a second to take in the sight of her beloved weapon in pieces before the imp's backhand lifted her. She hit the stern railing hard and blackness threatened to overtake her vision.

Without warning, the imp was suddenly towering over her. Qulanda rolled onto her side and kicked up at the creature. Her mind was befuddled though and her limbs didn't want to move the way she told them to.

The imp grabbed her and, without showing much effort, lifted her into the air. Qulanda screamed and fought back. She reached up and drove her thumb into one of the creature's eyes. The imp hissed in pain and tried to snap at her hand. Qulanda was faster though and pulled back her hand, brought her fingers tightly together, and lashed out. Her blow caught the imp in the soft tissue of its throat. Mouth open in a silent scream, the imp, with blood running freely down its face from its ruined eye, responded instinctively by pushing Qulanda away...and over the _Isabo_'s railing.

Qulanda tumbled helplessly through the air. The hull of the ship passed by in the corner of her eye as a brown blur. And then she hit the water. The shock of it felt like a slap across her entire body. Qulanda fought the reaction to gasp at the sudden pain. Downward she plunged, driven by the momentum of her fall.

Qulanda struggled to straighten herself and push back toward the surface. She had been unprepared for the sudden dive and already her lungs cried out for air. She saw the curvature of the _Isabo_ and swam desperately for it.

After what felt like hours, she broke the surface. Drawing deep draughts of air, Qulanda was amazed that she was still alive. She felt sure she had passed the worst of it.

"Help!" she yelled. The _Isabo_ was still being pushed forward by the wind and Qulanda estimated that she had a minute, perhaps a little less, before she was out of range of their ropes. "Help! I'm down here!"

Just then a hand grabbed her ankle and pulled her back underneath the surface. This time Qulanda did gasp and filled her lungs with water. Confusion and fear tore through her. What had happened?

Imps. Hands touched her from all sides. In the dim, wavering light she could make out several imps surrounding her. Their yellow teeth seemed to glow in the ethereal light underneath the sea.

Qulanda fought them. She punched and kicked at them, struggling to return to the surface. Black spots danced in her vision and her lungs felt leaden with the weight of the water she'd inhaled. She knew that she didn't have much time before she drowned...and before the _Isabo_ was out of range.

She could feel water moving past her as the imps dragged her further below the surface. Within moments she would lose even the meager light shining down. Qulanda felt for the small knife on her belt and pulled it free. The blade was dull from the times she had used it to dig roots for dinner in the wasteland, but it was the only tool she had to get back to the surface.

Qulanda swung the little knife like a madwoman. She could barely see the imps around her, but could feel their slimy hands as they groped her. She aimed for those hands. After the heated combat aboard the ship, listening to the screams of dying imps and men, fighting underneath the sea was strangely quiet. The drag of water made her movement seem slow and deliberate. Some of her strikes found their marks, however: white blood quickly fogged the water around her.

And then she was free.

Not wasting a moment, Qulanda swam away from her captors and angled for the quickly receding _Isabo_. Those dark spots in the center of her vision had expanded and again darkness threatened to swallow all.

The only thing that kept Qulanda moving was the thought that if she died here Penda would never know. She would never know why Qulanda hadn't come for her. She would never know how hard Qulanda had searched.

Firm with the resolve that she could not die on those terms, Qulanda broke the surface and drew enough air to yell: "Help!"

* * *

Lost in the quiet of her mind, Duena allowed herself to enjoy that the combat was almost over. Her arms and legs hurt. Fatigue pushed heavily against her. It felt as though she had been dancing through the blade forms for days. All about her were the mangled bodies of dozens of imps that tried to make it past her and reach the hatch leading below deck. Not a single one survived to even touch the hatch.

Content to let the officers and deckhands finish the clean up, Duena lowered her knife. She took a deep breath, held it, and released it with all the pent-up tension in her body. She fought just as Link had taught her: by letting her mind float in quiet that was above the physical concerns of her body. Adrenaline, fear, tiredness, were all distractions that could prove deadly if given into.

Link had taught her how to place herself apart from the fears that had always dogged her. In the quiet, she was an observer that could analyze an enemy's attack and match her forms accordingly. The forms are simple, Link taught her; it's the ways a blademaster utilizes them that are infinitely complex.

"Help!" Qulanda's voice was barely noticeable over the sounds of the sails billowing and the combat still raging.

Duena's calm faltered and fear took its place. She snapped her gaze to the command deck and saw only a dead imp. Where was Qulanda? Hefting her long knife, the Goron started for the rear of the ship. "Qulanda?"

Another cry for help sounded from far away. The voice was more desperate now. Duena started to run.

Clearing the corner of the command deck, Duena saw an imp staggering toward her. The creature was holding a hand to its left eye but could not stop the blood from flowing around its fingers. A dark bruise was also developing along its throat.

Duena was moving before conscious thought could catch up with her. She took three long strides forward and drove the point of her knife into the gut of the creature. She sidestepped, pulled the blade free, reversed her swing, and beheaded the injured imp.

She had spun around and was considering the empty deck before the imp's corpse hit the planks. "Qulanda! Where are you?"

"Overboard!" an uncharacteristically panicky voice replied.

Duena gasped and peered over the railing. Already several yards behind the _Isabo_ was Qulanda, struggling to remain above the surface.

Duena quickly sheathed her sword and ran toward one of the giant coils of rope used for mooring. The rope was larger around than the average head of a Hylian, but Duena's large hands swallowed it easily. When they had cast off from Cape Town, she had seen several men struggling to handle this massive rope. The Goron's superior strength lifted it without hesitation.

Forgetting about her inherent fear of water, Duena pressed herself to the rear railing and threw the rope as far as she could.

* * *

The rope landed several feet from Qulanda. Pushing her already exhausted body just a little further, the former guide began swimming to it. Her sodden clothes felt like anchors strapped to her body. Every muscle in her body felt overworked, stiff, and sore. She felt as though this battle had gone on for days without end. It seemed so long ago that she was sitting on the stern of the _Isabo_ eating cienuts.

One arm over the other, kicking all the way, Qulanda made it to the rope. She wrapped it around her hands and hung on. "Pull me in!" she cried.

Duena did. With large corded muscles standing out in her arms, the Goron began pulling Qulanda back to the ship.

Halfway to the _Isabo_, Qulanda felt a hand grab onto her right thigh and yank her back underneath the sea. Only her hold on the rope kept her close to the surface. Ahead, the _Isabo_'s rudder loomed large. She was still moving toward the ship.

Qulanda wanted to scream in frustration. She wanted to go home. Somehow the belt knife had remained in her possession. Twisting awkwardly while still gripping the rope with one hand, Qulanda tried to find her attacker. She could feel its hand, but could not tell where the owner of it was.

Suddenly, a red triangular face appeared before hers. The water imp's jaws were open wide, displaying the long pointed teeth of a meat-eating predator. It lunged for Qulanda's throat.

Responding without thought, Qulanda released the rope and caught the imp inches away from her unprotected throat by the crown of its elongated forehead. With the other hand she brought the knife up and drove it repeatedly into its chest. White frothy blood exploded around her as one of her strikes pierced something vital.

Leaving the knife buried in the dead imp's chest, Qulanda propelled herself forward and grabbed hold of the end the rope just before it cleared the water. Lifted by Duena's impressive strength, Qulanda shot from the water and hurled toward the _Isabo_. At the last instant, she managed to straighten her legs and absorb the impact evenly along her boots.

Holding onto the lifeline, Qulanda kicked her legs and pushed herself along the slippery hull as Duena continued to pull.

When she was close enough, Duena reached down and gathered up the front of Qulanda's tunic in her meaty hand. Easily, she lifted Qulanda over the railing and set her down on the deck.

Qulanda collapsed against her giant friend in relief and exhaustion. She gulped down breaths, but couldn't seem to get enough air in her lungs. "It figures," she said, pushing wet hair away from her face, "that if Link were here, he would have fallen in the drink with mermaids. I get water imps!"


	4. Collapse

****

Chapter Four – Collapse

The Shield Wall. A long expanse of jagged rocks thrusting up from the churning waves of the Great Hyrulian Sea. It stretched for miles a goodly distance out from the Canor coast, a forgotten range of mountains that the sea had swallowed. Or, perhaps, it was once part of the wasteland itself that had long ago broken off and now served as a reminder of the volatile temperament of nature.

Long fingers of reddish rock stretched high above the masts of the _Isabo_. Much smaller rocks leveled the area around the fingers of the Shield Wall for miles in either direction. Water had claimed much of it, however, leaving wide passes through to the Lost Brother Islands in the more depressed areas and deceptive tide pools in the higher areas. Waves washed over the barely covered expanses of rock, giving a momentary glimpse of what this place would look like in another few hundred years.

Qulanda stood silently on the bow of the _Isabo_ watching it all. Her blue-eyed gaze studied the rocks, the passes in between, and the way the water moved near the tide pools. She could not see the Lost Brothers behind the Wall, but had already committed Tibs' maps to memory. She was now prepared for what was to come next.

The ship behind her was unusually quiet, and she could feel more than a couple of gazes on her. Four days had passed since the battle with the water imps, and the change in the crew was striking. Many of the young crewmen had seen surviving that conflict as a reaffirmation of their mission. They were even more committed to throwing their lives away attacking the pirates.

Many, including Ron Tibs, had reached out to Qulanda in thanks of her actions defending the ship, but her lesson learned that day had been different than theirs. _Her_ mission was now clear. She was not going to die for someone else's goal without first reaching hers.

After they dropped anchor near the Shield Wall to prevent the pirates from spotting them, Qulanda had announced her decision to the crew. She had then given Tibs the money she'd earned from guiding Link across the Wasteland of Canor for one of his dories. The small gig was lightly loaded and hooked to the _Isabo_'s tackles, ready for the sea.

Tibs had sent other dories out to scout the islands and take stock of the pirates' encampment. Finding the pirates hadn't been hard; they were on the first island in the chain, but waiting for just the right moment was. Qulanda saw the wisdom in this and delayed her departure until some of the pirates shipped out.

That was about to change, she knew.

Deckhands shouting suddenly broke the quiet behind her. Captain Tibs was beside the hands as they worked to pull up the last scouting boat sent out. Men shouted orders and the fairlead squeaked. The boat was back in its moorings.

Qulanda turned away from her contemplation and strode down the foredeck. She wanted to hear the sailor's report even though a sixth sense had already told her what was about to happen. The finality of this leg of her journey was palpable to her.

"—packed up, sir," the scout was reporting. "It looks like three of the four ships, just like you thought. With the men and supplies they are taking, they are going to be gone for a while." The young, babyfaced sailor was out of breath with excitement. This was the beginning of their vengeance and the end of Qulanda's time with them.

"What about the island?" Qulanda asked. "What did you see there?"

"There's a small encampment around the lagoon," the scout said after a nod from Tibs. "And possibly one deeper in the forest. I saw a couple of wagons loaded with people leave the main encampment after sunset and disappear in the forest."

"With prisoners?" Tibs asked.

"I think so, sir. They had those people from the wagons working on the ships during the day. Sewing sails, repair work on the hulls, that sort of thing." The scout glanced down for a moment. "They also had another tent in the main encampment, I couldn't see inside from where I was, but there was almost always a line of men waiting to enter. It wasn't hard to figure out what...or who they keep in there, sir."

That news seemed to stun the entire crew save for Qulanda. She wasn't unsympathetic to the plight of those men or the women in the tent, but the thought of prisoners being kept on the island brought forth images of Penda locked in bondage as a slave. She had to get to that second camp. Penda was a strong, talent worker and surely the pirates would have used her for labor if they caught her.

"Did the three ships leave?" Tibs asked, intruding on Qulanda's thoughts.

The scout nodded. "They were drawing their sails when I left, sir. By now, they're gone."

Tibs nodded thoughtfully and glanced at the sun. "We have several hours before nightfall," he announced loud enough for the crew to hear. "At dark we will commence our attack. I want all of you to grab some food from Rilley and some sleep if you can manage it. That is all."

The crew that had gathered to listen to the scout's report quickly dispersed. Everyone was smiling at the prospect of killing pirates. The air had suddenly shifted with Tibs' words. Now a nervous and excited energy crackled through the _Isabo_. Qulanda stood apart from it all; she'd celebrate after Penda was off that island and again safe.

The former guide sighed and turned toward her newly purchased gig.

"Qulanda, wait!" Tibs pushed through the dispersing crowd to reach her. "Wait."

Qulanda stopped and looked back.

"I wish you would reconsider, Qulanda," Tibs said. "We really need you for this fight."

"Need me how?" She held her arms out. "I don't have a weapon to fight with. I doubt standing on the deck armed only with a quick wit would do much good against the pirates."

"I'll get you a sword."

Qulanda laughed. "I'm more apt to hurt myself with a sword than anyone else. I'm not needed here, captain."

A miscellanea of emotions flashed in his watery gaze. "If you don't have any weapons to use against the pirates, then how are you going to break into their prison?"

"I don't know yet," she answered honestly. "Hopefully, I can find a way in and out without them spotting me. I'm not going to lead a prison break; I'm only interested in one person. Everyone else can burn for all I care."

"I don't believe that."

She snorted and turned to walk away.

"Wait!"

She looked back again. "What now?"

"Please reconsider."

Qulanda sighed and glanced to the side. "I can't be here, Ron. I can't wait any longer. This is your little war, not mine. I've made no promises to you or to your crew. Even though I think a lot of your people are going to die out there, I'm not going to try and stop you because this is your fight. You made this decision and now must live with it. I intend to do the same.

"I don't know for certain if Penda is on that island; but I think she is. That's enough. I'll do whatever I have to, to anyone I have to, just to get her back. You've been trying to sell your case to me why this attack is something you must do; well, understand that this is something I have to do."

Tibs had no response to that and could only watch as she walked to the little rowboat.

Qulanda had secured her supplies, gave instructions to the hands working the tackles, and was ready to disembark when Duena suddenly appeared next to the railing. Her travel pack thrown over her shoulder.

"I am coming with you, Qulanda," she announced.

Qulanda shook her head. "I'm sorry, my friend, but you can't. The boat would never hold you and I have to do this alone."

"But I must come with you," the Goron insisted. "We are comrades."

Qulanda met the Goron's frightened eyes. "Then be a comrade for me, Duena." She stepped back aboard the _Isabo_. "Stay with these people and keep them safe. Without your sword skills, they don't stand a chance.

"And"—Qulanda lowered her voice—"I want you close to the lagoon if Tibs should win. You have to promise me, Duena, that if Tibs wins, you'll go to that tent the scout mentioned and free the women there.

"If Penda is—" Emotion cut off the rest of Qulanda's words.

The Goron nodded. While she was not always the most perspective of individuals, Duena did understand what Qulanda left unsaid. "They will be free and I shall personally look after them," she promised. "I shall also look for Penda afterward...if you fail to find her first, that is."

Qulanda gave a teary smile at the Goron's attempted coyness. It was a big step for her. The two friends embraced. "Be safe, Duena."

"You as well. We still have many miles to yet travel on our journey."

Not as many as you think, Qulanda thought but instead said, "Yes, we do."

They parted and Duena stepped back as Qulanda again boarded her small craft. She checked her oars and supplies one last time and then nodded to the deckhands. The ropes were lowered and with them, Qulanda. Once in the water, she unhooked the ropes, waved to the surprising number of people watching from the railing, and began rowing.

The former guide turned sailor maneuvered the small craft around the _Isabo_ and the jutting rocks to a pass leading to the islands. Oar over oar, Qulanda rowed. After what felt like hours, her boat caught a current leading inward and she quickly vanished from sight.

* * *

Duena and Tibs watched until Qulanda was beyond the edge of the Shield Wall. Water continued to batter the barnacle and seaweed covered rocks. Sailors shuffled about behind them, readying themselves and their beloved _Isabo_ for the battle that was now only hours away.

"There goes one amazing woman," Ron said.

"She is a person of great feeling," Duena agreed. "And deep obsession."

Tibs thought about that for a long moment. "Perhaps that is why I enjoy her company the way I do."

Duena shrugged and turned away. She moved toward the hatchway leading deeper into the ship.

"Are you going to rest?" Tibs asked with mild curiosity.

"No." The large Goron looked back, her back against the sun and the hilt of her sword strapped to her back casting a shadow over half her face. "I am going to pray to the Holy Spirits of the Light."

"For us or Qulanda?"

Duena blinked. "For the pirates."

* * *

They came in the night like spirits returning from the underworld. Sails unfurled, the _Isabo_raced past the Shield Wall and toward the first island of the Lost Brothers at full head.

The entire crew stood on her deck watching. Save for the occasional shouts of orders from deck bosses to hands, no one spoke. They all stood stone-faced as the island, lagoon, and anchored pirate ship drew nearer. This was the fruition of all their work, anger, and obsession.

Captain Ronald Tibs stood on the command deck watching the vessel growing in size as they approached. It was a massive ship, almost double the length of the _Isabo_. Unlike his ship, this was a vessel built for war. Iron plating had been bolted to the sides of her hull, numerous archer traps sat below the plating, and a sizable catapult sat on the main deck for launching both firecorns at unsuspecting ships and boarding parties.

Even at the late hour, there was a bustle of activity around the pirate ship and the nearby island. Bonfires burned on the beach, illuminating the surrounding area and lagoon. Reflections of the flames danced hypnotically in the lapping waves. A surprisingly few number of sentries walked the deck of the ship.

After a time, faint shouting and general alarm sounded. The pirates were waking.

Tibs didn't look away from the ship. "Draw the sails," he ordered. "Man the tiller. Bring us in close." He paused and readied himself for the next command. "And draw your swords."

When the two ships were close enough, hands on the bow of the _Isabo_ raised bows and let free a barrage of arrows with thin cables tied to their butt ends. Men secured the ends of the cables still on the _Isabo_ and the two vessels locked together.

"All hands," Tibs cried, "attack! For the _Isabo_!"

Several crewmembers picked up the battle cry and a flood of saber wielding sailors rushed the deck of the pirate ship. Some men, eager for the fight, jumped from one deck to the other where the ships came the closest, forgoing gangplanks. Others still grabbed the ropes holding the _Isabo_to her quarry and swung over.

Ron Tibs was part of the first wave of attackers. His blue coat open and flapping in the strong nighttime breezes, Tibs jumped aboard the pirate ship, his well-worn saber at the ready.

The sneak attack caught the pirates off guard, but that surprise disappeared quickly. Men of a multitude of statures and races rushed to meet the crew of the _Isabo_. They were powerfully built sailors with leathery skin that spoke of years at sea, young kids barely old enough to shave, thin hawk-nosed men that carried an aristocratic air about them. There was no set uniform for the pirates and all seemed to have assembled their clothes from many different sources. Torn wool shirts were worn underneath expensive silk vents; trousers with holes lining the legs were worn with richly designed dusters; large belts became bandoleers with knifes thrust through them.

At Tibs' side was his first mate, Marcus. The grisly sailor twirled his spear as he ran. His leathery face was set with grim determination.

Just several paces aboard the pirate ship, Tibs and the first wave of attackers met their opposition. The flickering light from the bonfires on the island and the lanterns set around the deck reflected in the well-polished sabers of the pirates.

With the name "_Isabo_" on their lips, the sailors met the pirates. Cries of pain, of metal kissing metal, and the clop of boots against deck over took the battle cry.

Tibs twisted aside as a sword swept past him, originally aimed at his neck. He parried another thrust from one of the many pirates quickly gathering around his crew, and struck out with his rusty blade. His strike found its mark and blood spurted into the air. One pirate went down but instantly two more took his place.

Tibs bit the inside of his mouth and gripped his saber with both hands. He moved slowly forward, parrying and riposting left and right. Through the throng of people, he caught sight of Marcus. The first mate pushed relentlessly after his captain, his spear and dizzying blur in the dim light. He turned sharply on his heel, drove the butt of the weapon into the gut of an approaching pirate, reversed his swing, and stabbed another coming from the opposite direction.

Tibs turned away a thrust aimed at his chest, tightened his hold on the curvature of the saber's hilt, and took the head of his attacker. Hot blood exploded around the pack of attackers and the thud of bodies hitting replaced the clop of boots against the deck.

Several members of the first wave of attack cried out in mortal pain and went down. Tibs did his best to ignore the screams around him, and put Qulanda's dire prediction of his attack out his mind, and pushed forward.

* * *

Duena was part of the second wave. Tibs had decided that she should stay on the _Isabo_ for as long as possible to help secure the vessel. With her incredible strength, she could do the work of several deckhands, freeing them to aid in the attack.

Drawing the large knife from the sheath on her back, the Goron ran across one of the gangplanks separating the two ships and joined the attack. Following the battle plan, her group ignored the first wave and pushed deep into the pirate ship. Her group cut a wedge between the pirates attacking the first group and the pirates still struggling to meet the attack.

The first pirate to fall to the Goron's blade was a hardened sailor with a complexion made spotty by the sun. He had just rushed up from one of the several hatchways leading below deck, still buckling his sword belt. Duena swept past him, her blade entering just below his axilla and exiting out the other side of his neck. The pirate went down in a gory mess.

Duena's justification was clear: these pirates were killers that had chosen to arm themselves and fight for the right to harm innocents and plunder. She was a servant of life and would not kill an unarmed person that wished to surrender. With that justification clear in the Goron's mind, she opened her attack and called upon all that Link taught her.

The tip of her well-crafted Goron blade whistled through the air as it cut left and right. There was no hesitation in her swings, no wasted movement. Duena danced the forms of the blade while lost in the calm of her mind. She found her quiet center and struck out from it without mercy to those that would kill indiscriminately and greedily.

One pirate met her sword point on and barely caused a second's delay in the dance as her impressive strength pulled the weapon from his chest. Another swung high at her with his saber, but stopped short when he felt her knife open his gut. Duena reversed her swing and easily flipped the saber from the dying pirate's hands.

Her fellow members of the second wave, unfortunately, did not have the benefit of having leaned swordplay from a Knight of the Triforce. Several paces away, Wilx took a blade in the abdomen and when down with a startled cry. Even from where she stood, in the dim light, Duena could see that he would never rise again.

Feeling a rush of guilt for not having unitized her skills better, Duena came forward and aimed for Wilx's killer. She stepped wide, pivoted, and lashed out with a series of quick strikes.

Wilx's killer, a hawk-nosed aristocratic looking man, handled his sword better than his fellow pirates handled theirs. Duena had gathered that swordplay was learned as needed at sea; in the past it was used mainly to repel imp and other creatures. This man, however, obviously had received formal training in swordplay.

His saber rose with impressive speed and turned away each of Duena's quick strikes. He turned quickly, stepping away from Wilx's corpse, and launched his own attack.

Duena retreated into her inner defensive zone, her blade already flashing upward to meet his. Sparks flew as their blades touched. Duena slipped her blade free of his, popped her wrists into their second joints, and struck at his midsection.

The pirate quickly parried her attack and riposted. Again and again his sword slammed into hers and Duena lost ground. Still, though, her calm did not break and she continued to move through the forms. Link taught her to use the defensive forms only to analyze an opponent for weaknesses and to let an enemy drain him- or herself with pointless attacks.

Keeping her wrists in their double joints, Duena floated from one form to the next. She fought purely defensively. The edge of her sword traced the imagery line separating her inner and outer zones.

The pirate spun showily and slashed at her neck. Duena calmly caught his sword with hers and knocked it away. She smiled to herself as she spotted the weakness in his attack. Someone had indeed schooled this pirate with the sword, but not a blademaster. By a noble, perhaps, that saw worth only in the flash of swordplay. Link taught her how to use the sword to survive and make sure those around her survived as well. He was a blademaster tempered by battlefield combat, and his training reflected as much. This pirate was showy and flamboyant; Duena was neither.

Seeing fatigue evident on his face, Duena again entered the outer zone and attacked. She slipped through an opening in his forms, catching him unprepared for the sudden attack. Desperately, he tried returning to his inner zone.

Duena didn't give him the opportunity.

She feinted one way, twisted at the waist, and struck from the other. Her sword met his with not the force of strength but the force of training. None of her strikes were showy, but all counted. She slashed him across the shoulder of his sword-arm. A bare miss tore through his richly designed black duster, forever ruining it. The tip of well-honed Goron metal opened the perfect cleft on his chin, dripping blood down his neck.

Gasping with pain, the pirate lunged forward as though trying to gain back the ground he'd lost by speed alone. Duena caught his thrust with only one hand on the hilt of her sword and turned it away easily. She gazed at him and no longer saw a fallen aristocrat but a desperate man who did not know how to use a sword.

With his hand slick on his sword, the pirate twirled again, came forward a step for better leverage, and snapped a left to right slice at Duena's neck.

Lost in the quiet of her mind, Duena simply stepped back and let the swing go wide. The pirate's momentum carried him all the way around and nearly spilled him to the deck. The edge of his saber hit the edge of the deck railing with a solid sounding thud and stayed there, buried deep in the wood.

For a half second, Duena wondered if he was going to surrender. Surely, he must recognize she bested him. Instead, the pirate gripped the hilt of his blade and yanked it free.

Duena's sword came up almost without thought. This time her strength was fully behind it. Without slowing the Goron knife passed through his wrist, severing the hand holding the hilt from his body.

The pirate screamed with both pain and fear. He watched wide-eyed as precious blood stained the deck.

Duena didn't hesitate. She reversed her swing and cut his throat. He fell to the deck and would not rise again. He died a pace away from where Wilx fell.

* * *

Captain Desmond Naser had very special tastes. On nights when the mood struck, he would send one of his mates down to the tent he'd ordered set up on the island for his crew's enjoyment. Any women that they captured during a raid that didn't have some sort of skill or trade of use went into that tent.

It gave the women a service to perform and it kept his men happy. It was beneficial for everyone involved.

Though other captains under Desmond's command openly visited the tent, he never would. It was not modesty or fear of losing face with his crew that kept him away; it just didn't suit his tastes.

Desmond Naser was, by nature, a hunter. Everything about him from the way he decorated his spacious cabin with animal pelts to his muscular and powerful physique expressed the hunter within him.

Unlike his fellow pirates, Desmond saw that the ultimate pleasure those women in the tents could provide was not a few minutes of greedy groping but hours of restrained torment.

His mates always went to the tent and return with the strongest woman there for him. She was dressed and brought to his cabin without any harm coming to her. His tastes didn't bother with superficial things such as hair color, skin color, or breast endowment; he wanted only their spirit. His men only cared about possessing the bodies of the women in the tent; Desmond knew that the only true thing of any value that one could harmed in another was his or her spirit.

And that was why he was captain of the pirates.

Desmond would dress well, too: forgoing his typical red overcoat and dark trousers for a waistcoat with brass buttons and four-in-hand tie. Unlike the members of his crew, Desmond had bought all of his fine clothes. The raids were not about riches to him, simply the power over the other captains.

Before the women came, Desmond would lay out a fine dinner, a wash pan, and a pitcher of water. After he finished taking in the sight of them, he would order them to disrobe and clean themselves with the water. He liked to make sure they were clean; he shared many things with his crew but there were limits.

Then they would dine. Over candlelight, a fine meal, and the best wine rupees could buy he and his victim would talk. Often, the time spent in the tent had traumatized them too much and they did not want to cooperate with his wishes. Those did not last long in the captain's cabin. It was for that reason he wanted only the strongest of those who served in the tent. At times, he considered tapping into the pool of slave workers they employed to work on the ships. After all, some were women.

Over dinner, he would learn about the women. Where they came from; what they did before they came into service of the raiders; who they once hoped to love. They would speak for hours, the victims slowly becoming more comfortable with the wolf that watched them with hooded eyes.

At the end of the evening, Desmond would give into the hunter within and pounce on woman from the tent. The good ones always fought back. One even managed to hit him in the temple with a candleholder and draw blood. He didn't leave that one until nightfall of the second day. His temple still caried a small scar.

Through it all, Desmond left a very specific order with his crew: they were not to bother him while he entertained a guest. And never in the past had anyone dared to break that order...until tonight.

Desmond paused and jammed the woman's balled up stocking into her mouth to silence her screams. "What is it?" he barked.

"There's been an attack, sir," came a young voice from beyond the door. "We've been boarded and they are attacking now, sir!"

Desmond took that information in. The hunter within cried for release. "Return to the deck," he commanded. "I'll join you shortly."

The leader of the pirates rolled off his woman for the evening and began dressing. He was not frightened the idea of an attack aboard his beloved _Freebooter_, but ecstatic by the prospect of the hunt. He trembled with arousal even the woman's screems had failed to draw.

Desmond finished dressing and then strapped his saber to his waist. The weight against his hip was a familiar one—it made him feel whole having it again there. He gazed down at the gagged woman tied to his bed.

"Don't worry, my pretty one," he cooed. "We'll have plenty of time later to continue our little talk." He slapped her bare bottom hard enough to leave a red handprint on her fair skin. "Count on it."

Desmond smiled and strode from his cabin. An armed and dangerous hunter was about to enter the fray.

* * *

Pirates came at Tibs from the right. Pirates came at Tibs from the left. Turning completely around, Tibs struck out with his saber and batted away the blades aimed at him. All about him knifes and swords flashed in the flickering flamelight. He saw the forms of his men, some fighting back to back, as they struggled to gain the upper hand on the pirates.

The surprise of their attack had fully worn off now and pirates flooded onto the deck from every accessway and hatch on the ship. The clash of metal against metal, screams of men wounded and dying, and battle cries rung across the lagoon. The shouts of "Isabo" were fewer now than when they had started, Tibs knew. He couldn't see the second wave from his position, but hoped they were still fighting.

There were more pirates than he had anticipated. They fought harder than he thought they would. Still, though, Tibs refused to believe Qulanda was right. These pirates were stoppable and he and his crew must stop them from harming anyone else. If they didn't, then who would?

Ron spun on his heel and sidekicked a pirate in the chest. The young man fell back into the throng, taking several others down with him. Tibs caught a blade aimed at his gut and turned it away. There were so many!

It seemed as though for every pirate that fell to the sailors' blades, there were four more ready to move forward. Tibs ducked underneath a wide saber swing and drove his blade into the chest of the attacker.

He yanked his sword free in time to turn and block another slash at his neck. He riposted and knocked the swordsman back.

"Captain!" a voice cried out. "Behind you!"

Tibs acted without thought and stepped wide to the side. That one action saved his life. He saw a shadow out of his peripheral vision and then felt the knife enter his arm. White-hot pain exploded in his right arm and the sounds of his sword hitting the deck and a new scream filling the night found his ears. Ron gasped and jerked away. The blade came free and immediately a rush of hot blood ran down his arm.

The pain was incredible. Tibs stumbled away blindly. He saw the pirate holding a bloody knife come forward, his knife raised threateningly. There was nothing Tibs could do. Pain paralyzed his arm and the rest of his body didn't want to move the way he told it to. He was going to die.

Pirates closed in like jackals waiting for their newest kill to finish its death throws.

A shadow suddenly rushed in and scattered those jackals. Ron caught sight of his rescuer as he struggled to remain standing. He was losing a lot of blood.

Marcus cut a path around his captain. His spear went deep in the chest of Tibs' attacker. When the first mate tried pulling the weapon free, the haft broke off in the man's body. Without a pause, Marcus turned away and swung the broken haft like a club. He caught one pirate in the head just behind the ear and than man went down cold; another's jaw was broken by a direct hit from the splintered wood; and a third grabbed for the haft but Marcus was faster and drove the club into his throat. The pirate dropped hard to the deck, choking and trying to draw air through a shattered windpipe.

Marcus dropped the club and grabbed Ron's sword from the deck. He spun and slashed the face of a pirate trying to come up behind Tibs. He blocked twice and lashed out again and again like a madman. And then, suddenly, the immediate threat was gone.

Marcus quickly pulled his bandana off and wrapped it around his captain's arm. Tibs cried out when the mate tightened the cloth and knotted it in a crude tourniquet.

"Are ya all right, captain?"

Tibs managed a smile that he hoped didn't look forced. "I'm fine, Marcus. Thank you."

"Ya had me worried," the mate said. "For a minute I thought ya were going to follow Captain Craine."

"I would have if you hadn't been here."

Marcus opened his mouth to speak but the only sound that emerged was a wet gurgle. Tibs felt something hot splatter against his face and glanced down to see the point of a saber protruding from his first mate's chest. Marcus looked at him with pure shock visible in his gaze, and then the light of life faded from his eyes and he slipped to the ground.

Tibs scrambled backward as the pirate standing over Marcus' body swung at him. The captain of the _Isabo_ backpedaled, as did the other members of the first wave. Slowly, the whole group moved back to the deck of their ship.

* * *

"Cut those bloody lines," Desmond ordered, gesturing to the cables mooring the _Isabo_ to the_Freebooter_. "I don't want my ship damaged by theirs."

Heedless of the combat raging just paces from him, Desmond stood on the command deck of his beloved vessel with members of his command staff around him. Though he held his sword bared to the world and the hunter screamed for release, Desmond held back long enough to direct the battle and set down plans for the attacking ship. Another time the _Isabo_ might have been useful to him whole, but now its greatest purpose was to serve as a morale-crushing blow to those that would attack him.

"Drive them back," he ordered moving toward the downward leading stairs. "When most of them have retreated, launch the firecorns. We'll pick up any survivors and send them to the Camp."

There was a chorus of "Yes, sir" behind him, but Desmond didn't hear it. He had reached the deck and could hear only the gleeful noises of the hunter within. Captain Desmond Naser grinned wickedly, raised his blade, and joined the fight.

* * *

Men died around Duena. Pirates fell to her blade and the blades of her fellow _Isabo_ sailors. But those fellow sailors died, too. Of the nearly thirty men that Duena came aboard with, only a small handful remained.

Those that could still move under their own power retreated to the _Isabo_. Others that could not move themselves, but were still alive cried out for help that they knew realistically the crewmembers could not provide. If any of the _Isabo_ members stopped to help a wounded comrade, they might take a sword in the back.

It was hard hearing the sound of combat. Duena struggled to maintain her calm center as she danced the forms. Pirates came at her two at a time now. She squared her stance and met each attacker fearlessly. Fear would take energy she didn't have now.

Some of the pirates fought better with their swords than others, but none lasted long. Many, like the deceased aristocratic looking man, fought with showmanship and flash. They died because they failed to counter Duena's utilitarian fighting style. Other simply fell before her blade because they were poorly untrained. The pirates were not used to fighting person to person. They achieved so much in such a little time because of intimidation and fear. Most times, sailors were too frightened to offer resistance. And, when fear was not enough, sheer numbers could overpower the opposition easily...much like they were doing to the _Isabo_'s crew.

Duena fought on, slipping underneath and around the sloppy forms of the pirates. Her sword found its mark repeatedly and pirates joined her fallen comrades on the bloody deck.

And then, almost as if following a silent command, the ranks around her began thinning. People pulled back and took up position around her. At first Duena thought they were surrendering, but then realized they were clearing the way for someone.

Coming to a rest several paces away from where the Goron stood was a tall, clean shaven man clad in a red duster, dark trousers, and brightly polished boots. He held a saber at an easy position in front of him. The air around him crackled with authority and power. He carried himself with an air of at ease danger, like a mountain lion out for an evening stroll.

He smiled when her eyes made contact with his icy blue gaze. "At long last," he drawled. "A true challenger."

Duena swallowed hard and felt her calm falter. "Before you engage me in a duel," she said hesitantly, "I must warn you that I have been trained by one of the greatest blademasters in the world."

The man threw his head back and laughed. "I must warn you," he said, "I don't care." He strode casually forward, the tip of his blade carving sideways facing eights as he moved. "I am Captain Desmond Naser and you are trespassing on my ship."

At three paces away he stopped and lashed out with one of the fastest sword strikes Duena had ever faced. Only Link's had been faster. The edge of the Goron knife barely came up in time to turn the strike away.

Duena stumbled back, desperate to hold onto her quiet center and recover from her sloppy block. She spun and parried his low follow-through.

Desmond pushed relentlessly against her defenses. His blade flashed left and right with a comfortable ease that spoke of years of blademaster training. This was not a showy fighter but one of true commitment.

Duena danced through the inner forms of defense, putting all fear aside and forcing herself to match his forms and learn from him. He swung at her neck, let her blocked his blade, then quickly reversed his swing and tried to open her belly. Duena read the maneuver half a second before he carried it out and managed to twist away. His sword cut only air.

The Goron backpedaled; her sword raised high to stop any follow-through.

Desmond took half a step forward, let his other leg drag behind, and then lunged at her. His blade slid down hers with an ear-splitting shriek and sliced a shallow cut across her arm.

Duena drew back sharply, her blade again at the ready for his next attack. Desmond held back and watched her. "A blademaster taught you, you say?" he said. "Before you die, you must tell me his name. I would like the meet the person that managed to teach a Goron."

Duena didn't respond to the taunting and focused solely on maintaining her air of calm.

"He gave you a rather conservative style," Desmond continued. "If somewhat peppered by battlefield tactics."

Duena was concerned that he was able to read all of that in just the few forms she'd danced. He was obviously more experienced at reading opponents than she. She swallowed hard and wondered how she was to defeat him.

* * *

Bleeding, hurt, coordination broken, the sailors from the _Isabo_ retreated over the gangplanks to their home ship. Sailors, before carried forward by the prospect of revenge, now fought just to stay alive. Those who were strong enough to fight stayed on the _Freebooter_ to hold back the pirates and give their brethren time to recover and regroup.

Captain Tibs was pulled back over the gangplanks by members of his crew. As they ran, one sailor inspected Tibs' stab wound and tightened the tourniquet. The pain was great but he ignored it and shouted out orders for another push onto the _Freebooter_. He was determined to retake the ground they had lost.

In all the commotion, no one noticed Desmond's men cutting the lines securing the _Isabo_ in place. Slowly, ever so slowly, she began drifting away from the _Freebooter_.

Away from the fighting from the remains of the second wave still on the pirate ship, stood four men armed with slings. Bandoleers with soft leather pouches on them crossed their chests.

Tibs watched with confusion as the men withdrew something from one of those pouches, dropped it into the slings, and began twirling the weapons. Surely they didn't think a stoning attack would do any good from that far away?

As one, the men let their missiles free. The rocklike projectiles flew across the distance separating the two ships and landed on the deck of the _Isabo_. There was a moment of silence, and then the explosions hit.

Fires lit the night and booms killed any quiet that still existed. Wood and bodies flew in every direction. Men screamed in mortal terror as flames raced across the deck and overtook them. The _Isabo_ rocked on her keel and groaned with the four explosions.

Without showing remorse, the four men aboard the _Freebooter_ let free another barrage.

This time the explosions were closer to the base of the rear mast. The boom gave way with a loud snap and it came crashing to the deck. The furled sails drifted down to the deck, blanketed many members of the crew, and quickly caught fire. Those buried underneath the canvas burned before help could reach them.

More firecorns landed and the explosions tore through the _Isabo_. The second round of explosions threw Tibs back and he landed near one of the gangplanks. He now recognized the firecorns for what they were: tiny bombs with long fuses.

Grief bubbled upward inside him as he watched his crew die and ship burn. Fires had now spread to the lower decks and smoke billowed up from portholes and accessways. Flames covered nearly the entire command deck and it was quickly chasing survivors down the foredeck. The _Isabo_ groaned like a living thing writhing in pain.

Trapped, Tibs gave the only order he could: "All hands abandon ship!"

Back the sailors came across the gangplanks. Right into the waiting swords and knifes of the pirates.

* * *

Duena moved left and let her blade drop to the right. Blade met blade with the horrid sound of metal against metal. The Goron quickly squared her stance and brought her sword up to catch the captain's follow-through.

Showing no sign of tiredness, Desmond pushed forward. He feinted low and struck high.

Duena caught up with his attack a moment too late and received a slice across her chin for her lateness. She gripped her sword in a sweaty grip and watched for an opening in the captain's defense. Slowly, the two fighters circled. Pirates scrambled to stay out of their way. Occasionally, a few would shout words of encouragement to their captain, but mostly they were silent.

An air of reverence fell over the area around Duena. She saw nothing but Desmond and his sword, felt nothing, and heard nothing but the swish of his blade. Distantly, she perceived sounds of explosions and people screaming in moral fear and pain, but that was only a distraction. Duena understood the seriousness of this fight; she knew Desmond would not hesitate to kill her at the first drop in her defenses.

As though on silent cue, the two fighters came together. Sparks flew as the two blademasters struggled to best one another. Duena broke from her defensive pattern and lashed out from a high guard. She forced Desmond back slightly as he whipped his blade from one defensive form to another.

Parrying a slash aimed at his midsection, Desmond moved slightly to Duena's left and struck out in a counterthrust. He quickly took back the ground he'd lost.

Duena abandoned her aggressive style and retreated into her inner zone. Desperate, she tried to study his approach and form a stratagem to counter it. She could not continue to fight purely defensively, she knew. Even before the duel, fatigue was already starting to take its toll. She'd fought tens of pirates before Desmond emerged from belowdeck.

With the skill of one carefully trained, Desmond knocked her sword aside and thrust the tip of his sword at her. Duena backpedaled and cried out as the sharp point entered her shoulder. It wasn't a deep wound, but it did smart. Blood ran down her trunk and she stumbled to the deck.

Desmond did not pursue but pulled back slightly. "My compliments to your teacher," he said. "No one has lasted this long with me. I lead for a reason, Goron. The offer stands that the one that manages to kill me will inherent the _Freebooter_." He smiled wickedly. "As you can see, I am surrounded by cutthroats yet I still live and I rule unchallenged. You never stood a chance, Goron." He moved in for the kill.

"Duena!" a pained voice cried out.

Duena snapped her gaze to the voice. It was Hubert, the young sailor Tibs had sent out to scout beyond the Shield Wall. He was one of the many injured sailors that were waiting for help that would never come. With a grimace, he pushed his saber across the deck to her. "For the _Isabo_!"

Duena's left hand caught the hilt of his saber. She returned her gaze to Desmond. Energy filled her and the fatigue disappeared. She was on her feet in a blink, rushing the pirate captain, and moving through the forms of the blade.

She didn't have to work to obtain her calm center this time. It was there waiting for her just as Link had said it would. She believed in herself and let all the tiredness, fear, and doubt vanish in the maelstrom swirling outside her center. Adrenaline was just fuel for her body. Fight or flight and Duena chose to fight.

She came at Desmond at an angle. Her left hand, still griping Hubert's sword, held low. The captain caught her first strike and the force behind it and her momentum knocked him back. Barely breaking stride, he slipped into the defensive forms. Duena spun and brought both swords to bear. They cut a near continuous arc around her body as she moved forward.

Sparks flew and the sound of swords crashing filled the pirate ship. Desmond tried mounting a counterattack, but could not best Duena's speed to escape her two whirling blades.

Link had never schooled her with two swords, but he did teach that blademastery was not exclusive to only one style. He believed—and made Duena believe—that true mastery was an art form that extended to all types of weapons. He taught her the forms and then cultivated the skills needed to use those forms in the proper sequence to survive.

It was not hard for Duena to extend those forms to more than one blade. She kept herself angled to Desmond and struck high, low, at his midsection, and feinted in alternating directions. She kept him moving and didn't allow even a half second to give him time to strategize.

Desmond no longer smiled and no longer looked free of fatigue. Sweat glistened on his face and soaked his clothes.

Duena slipped underneath his defense and opened a shallow wound on his arm. She reached over his forms and claimed a lock of hair. She went low and stabbed him hard in the thigh.

Desmond cried out and drove his sword forward in a desperate lunge attack.. Duena brought her Goron blade up and held his sword at bay. She quickly raised the much smaller blade in her left hand to his neck and pressed it against his flesh.

"Yield," she commanded.

For a long moment no one breathed. The pirates stood stunned around her. In the space of only a few minutes, the entire battleground had changed. Their captain was now bloodied and at the mercy of their enemy.

"Goron," a cold voice called from beyond the throng of pirates and downed _Isabo_ sailors.

Duena spared a glance to the side and saw one of the members of Desmond's command staff standing with a wounded Ron Tibs in front of him. The edge of the pirate's knife was to Tibs' throat.

"Let the captain be and lower your swords." The mate pressed the knife's edge a little closer. "Or your captain will die."

Duena's eyes went wide as she considered the choice presented to her. Several of the downed sailors yelled curses at the mate, while others encouraged Duena to take the man's head.

"I—" Duena faltered and could say nothing more. Her calm center was gone. Link's training never covering anything like this.

Heedless of the knife inches away from his throat, Tibs shouted, "Kill him, Duena! He's the heart of all of this. As your captain, I order you to cut that bastard's throat ear to ear."

Duena's heart hammered against her ribcage as she looked from captain to captain. Now she was sweating even harder than during the duel. Finally, with the eyes of all the sailors and pirates on her, Duena shook her head. "I cannot trade a life for a life," she said and dropped her blades.

Immediately, pirates surrounded her. She did not resist.

"Shackle the Goron," Desmond said, feeling the wound on his thigh. "Triple them and make sure she can't escape. Take the whole lot of survivors down below and we'll ship them off to the Camp at daybreak." He removed his hand from his leg and looked at the blood glistening there. "And send for my surgeon!"

Duena glanced at Tibs but could not stand his disappointed gaze. Forlornly, she looked out across the lagoon. There, now quite a distance away from the _Freebooter_, was the _Isabo_. Her funeral pyre lit the night. Only one of her masts still stood and flames covered it from end to end. Deck plates collapsed inward and released a torrent of orange-red sparks. True to her namesake, the _Isabo_ had carried those who served her as far as she could. Now, only fire remained. The beautiful cargo ship not built for warfare but that fought anyway was lost to the flames.


	5. Pain

****

Chapter Five – Pain

On the other side of the island, far away from the lagoon and the _Isabo_, Qulanda let her small gig come to a rest. She jumped from the boat and dragged it the rest of the way to the shore. After securing it so it wouldn't drift away, Qulanda turned and took in her surroundings.

About twenty yards from the water the beach ended abruptly and gave way to a dense forest. Overgrowth buried any trails the pirates might have carved through this area when they first came to the island. Save for crabs working their way through the sand, the area was lifeless.

Still, however, Qulanda studied the shadows carefully for traps or sentries. Seeing none, she ventured into the forest. It was slow going at first, especially in the dim light, but eventually Qulanda found a natural path through the thicket and moved steadily inward.

After more than two hours of walking, Qulanda came upon two well-worn ruts from wagon wheels. The scout had said they loaded the prisoners into wagons. Qulanda followed the line of ruts in one direction and then the other with her gaze. One led to the lagoon and the other led further inland.

The former guide started inland.

Qulanda had no idea was she was going to do once she found this prison camp. She had no weapons to fight her way in, no reconnaissance to plan a break in, and no idea what sort of security the pirates had in place. She knew only that if the pirates had captured Penda, she would be in that prison. It was simply not possible they would have taken her to that tent on the beach.

Since that was where Penda mostly likely was, Qulanda had to get in. Everything else was unimportant in her mind. A singular purpose drove her and she could see nothing else.

For another two hours she walked. Her limbs were heavy with fatigue from the hours spent traveling and from the hours before hand in the rowboat. Qulanda would not stop. This was the closest she'd ever been. She would rest in Penda's arms.

Gradually, the forest thinned around her but did not disappear completely. The ground rose to a slight incline and large rocks began dotting the surrounding land. By her best estimate, she had to be close to the center of the island by now. The increasing numbers of rock formations were probably the remains of the volcano that formed this island.

Qulanda opened her tunic's collar and kept climbing. The east was starting to lighten with the approaching dawn, but there was still enough darkness to hide her. Years spent as a guide in the Wasteland of Canor had taught Qulanda how to use the night to hide from predators. It was a place where she was comfortable. For once, her clothing of mourning came in handy.

Reaching the top of an especially steep hill, Qulanda saw for the first time the pirates' prison camp. Dropping to the ground, Qulanda peered down at the encampment. Nestled at the base of two very tall hills, was a walled compound set around a series of cave openings. Tents and several outbuildings lined a large wooden construction that was either barracks or a stable. Given the wheel tracks that led straight through the camp to that building, Qulanda guessed the latter.

The fence surrounding the encampment was just a wooden construction about seven feet high. There were no defense fortifications or guard platforms around it. Qulanda was sure she could scale the fence if needed.

Pirates walked in three rotating sentry lines: one inside the walls and two outside the camp. The two pirates in each patrol wore a saber hanging from his belt and a quiver of arrows and bow strapped to his back.

Qulanda was suspicious. Why were there so few guards? It all looked too easy to break out of. That thought brought her up short and she studied the compound with new understanding. The encampment was set at the base of two hills giving a good view looking down into the camp, but also giving an excellent view to those looking up. If a prisoner managed to climb the walls and make it past the guardline, he or she would have nowhere to hide. It was a straight climb with very little overgrowth for cover.

Qulanda took up her first bow at the age seven and knew how easy a shot from one of those walls aiming for the surrounding hills would be. Plus, the guards would probably enjoy the break in monotony if someone tried to get away.

Many of the guards moved with sluggish movements. Qulanda gave a dark smile. They were complacent and bored. With her black cloak drawn tight around her body, and with the rising sun still below the hill line, Qulanda started down into the valley.

The eyes of a guide for more than twenty years studied the ground before her, looking for loose and dry sticks that would give her presence away; the angle of shadows so she didn't accidentally enter one of the guard's field of view; and the movement of the patrols below her. She watched as the guard walked from one watchpoint to another, counting the seconds it took them to reach each point and then pass each other again.

Slipping noiselessly into the valley, Qulanda came to a stop just yards away from the first guardline. She crouched in the fading shadows and waited. She counted the time it took them to walk a full patrol again, waited, and then did it again. Confident she knew their schedule, Qulanda glided past the first line.

Finding refuge in a bush, Qulanda followed the same procedure and finally slipped past the second line. At one point, she passed only feet away from one of the pirates. The bored man, doubtlessly convinced a misdeed in a past life had condemned him to this dull work, never turned around to see her slip by.

She reached the fence and recalled the movement of the third guardline. Qulanda peered in between the boards and looked for sentries. Taking a deep breath and sending silent words to the Holy Spirits of Light to give her just enough luck to find Penda, Qulanda braced herself on the lowest beam and boosted herself over the top of the fence.

For the first time in her life, she was grateful for her tall height. Where were all those mean short kids from her childhood now? She gazed over the top beam, saw no one, and scrambled the rest of the way over.

She paused in the pre-light of the new day for a long moment, holding her breath, and listening for sounds of alarm.

After a full minute of silence, Qulanda decided that she had managed to sneak unseen past all the guards. She didn't hold any illusions that it would be that easy to get back out with Penda. That was a bridge she couldn't afford to think about right now; she had to find the prisoners.

Staying low, and still mindful of the third line of guards, Qulanda half walked half ran across the camp. She hugged the walls of the stable and found harbor in the long shadows stretching away from the rising sun.

Qulanda began a slow methodical search of the encampment. One of the tents was a storehouse filled with spare lamp oil, chains, long wooden beams, and dried food. The other housed a sleeping man—the commander of the camp, she assumed. The other outbuilding was barracks for sleeping pirates. By her estimate, there were over two dozen pirates here including the ones standing watch.

Frustrated, Qulanda turned to the entrance of the cave and crept toward it. The sky was brighter now and soon the camp would be fully awake. If Qulanda didn't find a dark place to hide for the daytime, she was going to find the prisoners the hard way.

There were several spring-set traps lining the entrance to the largest cave. Qulanda stepped carefully around the triggers and found a couple more hooked to bells discreetly hidden above the cave's mouth. She was beginning to suspect the pirates did not like allocating many men to the security and maintenance of this compound.

Past the traps, Qulanda discovered a winding cave that ran deep into the earth. Lanterns set on pole leaning against the walls provided the only illumination. The place smelled strongly of overturned soil, unwashed humans, and rot. The odor became worse as she moved lower into the cave.

Rounding a corner, the former guide came upon a box like chamber with a desk in one corner and a cot in the other. A sleeping pirate lay shirtless on the pallet. Papers were stacked handspans high on the desk. Here the smells of burning oil and ink mixed with the gagging odor of decay. Extinguished lamps stood on the desk, by the bed, and set haphazardly in the corner. A narrow door, firmly bolted, stood at the other side of the chamber.

With nowhere else to go, Qulanda walked slowly into the office. Her gaze never left the sleeping pirate. If he woke, she would have to try and kill him with her bare hands. She felt the loss of her beloved crossbow with renewed intensity.

Fortunately, the pirate didn't stir and she made it to the locked door. Not wholly sure if she wanted to place a sealed door between her and the outside, Qulanda paused. In the end, the fact outside only meant more pirates that were better armed than she made her turn to the door.

Lifting the bolt free of the door, Qulanda opened it slightly, peered around, and quietly slipped through the crack. The door closed with a click behind her but she did not hear the bolt fall back into place.

The light was even dimmer here. The smell of human waste was also stronger. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust, and when they finally did Qulanda saw a long corridor that human effort had obviously extended. Rough and jagged walls were testament to that fact. Scree littered the ground and crunched under her boots. Carved into the sides of the grim hall were narrow alcoves, barely large enough for a grown man to lay vertically in. This was the source of the rot in the cave. Here was the origin of the forbidding sense of loss and pain that seemed to fill the entire encampment. This was the cellblock for the prisoners.

Slowly, Qulanda venture down the corridor. She passed twenty empty cells—ten on one side of the hall and ten on the other. The corridor ended with a T-junction that split the tunnel in two directions. Qulanda paused and considered which way to try first. The prison was bigger than she had thought; the prospect of finding Penda in this maze before the camp fully woke did not look promising.

Deciding to try the left tunnel, Qulanda followed the dim spheres of light cast by widely spaced torches set in worked metal brackets. She did care to think of who might have lit those torches. She passed more cells on either side of her and this time some of them were full. Men of all ages, clad in rags, and smelling like several different kinds of filth lay curled up on narrow pallets in the tiny cells. Qulanda's heart went out to them, but they were not her reason for being here. Penda had priority over everyone else in the world to Qulanda.

After five hundred steps, the corridor ended in a wall of stone. Picks and shovels littered the ground along with scree piled in carts. The pirates were expanding their prison.

Cursing her bad choice, Qulanda turned and started up the narrow hall. So angry at having wasted precious time was she that Qulanda failed to notice the shuffling sounds of someone walking toward her. She and the man entered the same sphere of light at the same instant from opposite directions. For one long moment they stared in amazement at one another.

He was not a pirate—that much was obvious from his ragged clothes. Pale, callused skin hung loose over his sickly skinny frame. He was perhaps twenty or thirty years older than she. When he opened his mouth to speak, he revealed that several teeth were missing.

"Who are you?!" he asked in a gravelly voice.

"You're a prisoner," Qulanda said. It wasn't a question. "Why are you free?"

"I'm a prime," he said. "It's my duty to ready the workers for the day. It's better if I wake them than if the guards have to do it." He grimaced. "Better for the workers. Who are you?"

Qulanda came forward with two long steps, grabbed his bony arm, and dragged him from the light. "My name is Qulanda Rinter," she said. "Is there anyone with you?"

Gray hair that hung down to his shoulders swished as he shook his head. "I am the only prime for this block. My name is Caden Benchmen."

"I need information from you," she said. "I need to find a prisoner."

"Are you going to free us?" There was a faint spark of hope in his voice.

Qulanda held his gaze for a long moment. She wanted to help these people but didn't know how. How was she supposed to stand up to dozens pirates without a single weapon?

"We'll see," she said. "First I must find a woman that was brought here some time ago. Hair a little lighter than mine, a couple of inches shorter than me, really pretty, and with a pair of eyes that—"

"You mean Penda," Caden put in.

A wave of emotion shot through Qulanda and nearly dropped her to her knees. After so much time apart, she was close! Hearing Penda's name from someone else's lips was the best music in the world. She couldn't hold back the smile. "Yes! Which cell is she in?"

Caden didn't return her smile. This poor soul at the bottom of the world looked at her sorrowfully. "She was taken away a couple of months ago," he said. "I'm sorry."

All of Qulanda's hopes fell down to her boots. It felt like Caden had punched her in the stomach as hard as he could. She gaped at him for a long moment before managing, "Not the tent on the beach?"

"Oh no, no," he said quickly. "Penda had knowledge of herbs and medicines—"

"She was a guide," Qulanda interjected. "She knew about plants."

"She would help us prisoners," Caden continued. "If we became hurt while working, she would heal us. She even made poultices for some of the guards. I think that was how she survived here without...she was a good looking lady, you know."

Qulanda swallowed hard. She didn't want to hear this. She wanted Penda to be here so they could break out together, get as far away from this bloody island as possible, and laugh about what an adventure it had all been.

"A few months ago—time is hard to tell down here—one of the pirate captains came here and took her away. Rumor said she was being forced to serve on one of their ships."

Hope ignited anew. "Which ship?" she asked. "I need a name." Already plans were spinning around in her head. She'd sneak on board, find Penda, and they'd steal a gig and escape to freedom.

The sorry look returned to Caden's face. "We didn't hear about it until the guards started talking about it, but one of the ships disappeared after a raid. They said the name of the captain that was lost...it was the same one that took Penda away."

A punch to the stomach would have hurt less. "No!" Qulanda shoved the old man back hard. "I didn't come all this way to hear that!"

"I'm sorry," Caden said. "I cared for her, too." He peered at her, trying to read the miscellanea of emotions dancing in her wet blue eyes. "Was she family?"

Qulanda nodded. "All that I had left," she whimpered.

Caden looked helplessly up then down the corridor. "You can't stay here," he said. "The guards will open the block soon. I have to get you out of sight."

Qulanda didn't care if they found her. What did it matter? Now she had nothing left. Her entire purpose centered on retrieving Penda. She had traveled halfway around the world just for that reason.

"I have an idea. Perhaps it will even be good for you. Come." His bony hand wrapped around her arm and he led her down the hall. Qulanda followed numbly. She didn't see the rough walls passing by, or even try to follow the twists and turns Caden led her down. They passed occupied cells—some with aware prisoners that were wise enough not to shout with surprise of seeing a strange woman in their company—and entered another empty block. There were tears on her face, but Qulanda didn't even notice them.

"This was emptied around the same time Penda was taken away," Caden said. "You'll be safe here. In fact"—he came to a stop in front of a cell—"this was where they kept Penda." He pushed open the cage door. "As long as you don't make any noise, the guards won't find you here. They don't like being in close proximity with us and hardly ever walk down the unused blocks. Wait here and I'll be back for you when I can. We'll figure something out then."

Qulanda walked into the narrow cell and promptly sat on the floor. Caden said something to her that she didn't understand. She just nodded out of reflex. That must have been the appropriate reply because Caden said good-bye and shuffled back up the corridor.

Qulanda drew her knees to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. There, alone in the darkness, Qulanda wept for what she would never have again.

* * *

Far underneath the earth Qulanda sat. Time had no meaning in this world where shadows ruled and light was just an occasional visitor. She sat on the floor and stared at the cell door for days, hours, or minutes.

In her hand was the charm Penda had given her so long ago. Worked metal in the shape of the Hylian grapheme of P. It had been a gift celebrating their love. She had received it not long before Penda took the guide job that led her to Cape Town. That, she supposed, was the beginning of the end.

If Penda hadn't taken that job, if she hadn't wished to help the sailors hurt by the pirates, Qulanda would still have her. It was selfish, it was foolish, but Qulanda wanted to hate Penda for that. All their talk of the future, what right did Penda have to throw it all away for people they had never met?

In the quiet, Qulanda thought about the advice and the sympathy she had received from the people that had learned of her quest to find Penda. Stne, an old friend that knew Penda, once warned Qulanda that her love for Penda would one day turn to hate if she didn't stop centering her life around the quest. She hadn't understood or agreed at the time. Now, she understood and didn't want it to be so.

Perhaps Stne had known how the quest would turn out. Maybe he had only been trying to save a friend from experiencing pain.

Duena, while she still didn't understand love for a member of the same sex, had told her that Qulanda would find what she sought from the journey, not the destination. Perhaps she, too, knew that end.

Qulanda wondered how many signposts she had passed without seeing them that foretold the journey's end.

In his own naive way, she thought Ron knew the end as well. That was why he tried to get her to fight in his war. All to save her the pain of the truth.

They all failed and now Qulanda was alone with the pain. Razor-sharp misery sliced through every nerve in her body. The land of agony she willingly walked into no longer had a beginning or an end. There was nowhere to go from here.

She doubted Tibs had won his little war. Even with Duena at his side, he was hopelessly out numbered and outmatched. She had tried to tell him that but his obsession had blinded him to the dangers and the consequences.

Qulanda managed a smile at that irony.

Even if Ron won, the _Isabo_ probably set sail again for beyond the Shield Wall. She was out there in the Great Hyrulian Sea, safe from the returning pirates.

The pirates. Qulanda felt a wave of bitterness. This whole thing would have been easier if they fought fair. They stole from so many—Qulanda included. They were the cause of Penda's decision to stay in Cape Town. Penda was a better person than she was; Penda could never turn away from someone that needed help.

In a reversed situation, she probably would have stayed at Ron's side and fought to the very end. She was a true survivor—which was what made her such a good guide through the Wasteland of Canor.

What is the lesson, she wondered, when one reaches the end of the road and realizes there was never a destination. What is real after years spent chasing illusions?

"You know what's real," Penda would probably say if she could see her lover now.

Qulanda tried turning her thoughts away from Penda's way of thinking but could not. Those views were part of her now. Penda had taught her well.

"The pirates are real, the prisoners are real," the memories of Penda continued, "do something about it."

Qulanda bent her neck until her forehead rested on her knees. "You're not real," she mumbled into the cloth of her trousers.

"No, I'm not. Deal with it and move on."

"I can't. You were the stronger one between the two of us."

She remembered the way Penda would sigh: a deep draught through the mouth and then a quick release through the nose.

"Don't make excuses, Qulanda! They will get you nowhere. Find a way."

"I don't have a weapon."

"Then become one."

The memories receded to the dark recesses of her mind and she was again alone in the quiet. She thought about all she had been through, all that she had survived, and what she had failed to do. The pirates, she thought again, were the cause of it all. They were the ones that terrorized the waterways and led to Penda staying in Cape Town. They were the ones that abducted all these people for the sole purpose of forcing them into bondage so they wouldn't have to do their own work or fix their ships. They were the ones that kept Penda from her. They had killed Penda.

Far underneath the earth Qulanda sat and became angry.

* * *

Tears gone from her eyes and face, Qulanda Rinter stood waiting for Caden. She could hear the shuffling of the old man's feet as he made his way down the dark corridor. Qulanda had faced herself in this cavern and was now ready for the next challenge. She had confronted her worse fear, gained a couple of new scars from it, and emerged stronger and with a new purpose.

Like Penda before her, she was a guide through the Wasteland of Canor. A seeker that led the way through danger and darkness. She now had new charges to guide and protect: the prisoners.

Caden came into view holding a clay bowl filled with foul smelling gruel. He smiled a full smile when he saw her. "You're feeling better I see."

She didn't return the smile. "We need to talk, Caden."

The prime let himself into her cell and handed her the bowl. "I thought you might like some food," he said. "I got this away during feeding time. The guards sometimes look the other way for us primes. We keep the others in line," he added apologetically.

Qulanda nodded her understanding and accepted the food. It tasted horrible, but it was the only food she'd had since leaving the _Isabo_. As she ate, she asked Caden about the prison structure, the guards, and how the work details operated.

"Mostly we are kept in our cells until we are needed. The warden keeps records of who worked when and rotates us so we never work in the same place twice in a row."

"Has there ever been a breakout?" Qulanda asked. "Or at least an attempt?"

Caden nodded. "The new ones always try to escape at first. Several made it as far as the wall before the guards rushed from their barracks and took them down with arrows." He was quiet for a long moment. "The guards were saying that the next time the wagons are sent to the lagoon, more prisoners will be sent back."

The crew of the _Isabo_. The last piece of the puzzle fell into place for Qulanda. She had even more charges to look after. "When is lockdown?" she asked.

"By sunset we must all be back in our cells. The warden has four sets of keys: one for each block. He and three other guards come through here at sunset and lock each cell."

Qulanda finished the gruel and used her fingers to scoop out the last traces of it. She was still hungry but now had enough energy to do what she had planned. "Sunrise is when the warden returns?" she guessed.

"That's right. You were lucky when I found you because he was overdue."

"What about you and the other three primes?"

"We are kept separate from the rest of the workers," Caden said. "Our cells are sealed with a simple bolt from outside—no key is needed. One of the guards on patrol lets us out and tells us to ready the other workers."

"Because the don't like to go into the narrow corridors with the prisoners?"

"That's right."

The pirates gave away a lot of information with such a schedule. Most importantly was that they feared an outbreak at night. The natural defensive position of the land around them was effective only when the sun was out providing uniform light. The guards walking patrol were there mainly to raise alarm for the large force of pirates in the barracks. To save on men and supplies, the pirates had spread themselves thin during the very hours Qulanda was most at home.

"Pass the words to the other primes," she ordered, "to tell the members of their block that if they want out of this place, if they want revenge against the men that put them in here, they are to be ready to go an hour before sunrise."

Caden nodded. "But how are we to make it past the guards?"

"You leave that to me. Go back to the others now. I'm going to rest for tonight."

Giving her a question-filled look, Caden stood and did as ordered.

Qulanda waited until she heard his footfalls fade, then turned the clay bowl over and set it on the rock floor. She stood and brought her boot down sharply on the center of the bowl. It shattered into many pieces, some large enough to fit comfortably into the palm on her hand.

Lifting the largest piece, Qulanda inspected its edge with the tip of her finger. It wasn't as sharp as a knife, not by any means, but it would cut the soft tissue of a man's belly or throat.

She now had a tool; she was the weapon.

* * *

Qulanda slept for several hours, suffering through several nightmares filled with images of Penda vanishing to darkness that Qulanda could not penetrate. She woke in a sweat and knew instinctively that it was time. Day and night were impossible to determine without access to windows, but her internal clock told her it was time.

As she moved through the dark corridors, using only her skill as a guide and hunter to find her way, she could not hear any sounds of movement or life. Caden had not yet been release to light the torches or wake the prisoners. She had time to do this.

Qulanda fingered makeshift clay blade in her pocket and returned to the T-junction. At the end of the long corridor was the door to the warden's office. Keeping her back to the wall, Qulanda rushed down the length of the hall.

She listened at the door, trying to make out how many people were beyond the door. This was the part of her plan that worried her the most. In the open she had a better chance at survival. Here, she could open the door and find a meeting of the entire security force for the encampment. She would also, if all went well, have to kill the warden.

This was a different sort of killing than the garjos in that temple she and Link had traveled to, different than the water imps even because that was a direct, kill-or-be-killed, threat against her and those underneath her protection. The guards and warden were an indirect threat to those she must protect.

Locking away her feelings in a small room in the center of her heart, Qulanda remembered all that Penda taught her about surviving the rough condition of the wasteland. Life was important, she taught, but if someone or something attempts to kill, it does so at the risk of forfeiting its own life. Qulanda understood this and willingly walked the line between the two possible outcomes.

Slipping the edge of the clay shard between the door and the wall, Qulanda used it as a lever to, as quietly as she could, push the bolt up enough to allow her to open the door. Light flooded through the narrow crack she opened.

Bracing herself for the sudden light, Qulanda ducked into the office. Only one man occupied the room: the same man from the first time she snuck through here. His back was to the door as he sat at the paper-stacked desk. He seemed not to have heard the door open. The blankets thrown over his sleeping pallet were rumpled and kicked aside. It was morning.

Holding her breath, Qulanda moved silently across the small office. She gripped the makeshift knife as she approached him. Her heart pounded. All the images from her nightmare came back to her in a rush. This was the man that had locked Penda in that putrid hole. He sentenced her to the dark and probably watched as that captain led her away so his men would be healthy.

A slave master.

Without hesitation, Qulanda jumped the man, snaking one arm around his neck and holding tight. With the other hand, she brought the shard up and slit his throat. She cut deep and managed to cut his vocal cords too. Qulanda pressed her weight against him as he thrashed about in death throws. He clawed helplessly against her and was finally still.

Letting the corpse drop, Qulanda quickly searched his body and blood stained desk for the keys. She found all sets and also took a real knife from his belt. Pocketing the knife and holding onto the keys, she turned back to the door and slipped back into the dark corridor.

Flickering torchlight lit the cave in widely spaced spheres again. At the end of the T-junction stood Caden and three other older men.

"Qulanda," he said with relief. "I did as you instructed. This is—"

"I don't have time for names," she put in and held out the keys. "Here, take these and let the prisoners free. Tell them to mass here and wait for my return. If they don't want to wait, remind them of the prisoners that were struck down at the wall." Dismissing the three other primes with a wave, she turned to Caden. "I want you to do the same but bring me two of your smartest, most agile men."

Caden saluted and moved off to follow her wishes. Within minutes, Qulanda was leading a group of two former prisoners—Borka and Kemp, two big and strong men slightly younger than she—back through the warden's office. Quickly, mindful of both the traps and the weight of the approaching dawn on her shoulders, Qulanda led her small group back to the cave mouth. The eastern sky was already starting to brighten and the dim light of predawn was fighting the shadows.

Qulanda crouched in the entrance to the cave complex and hurriedly explained the route the patrols followed. The two boys—by their wide-eyed expressions, she had a hard time thinking of them as men—listened with rapt attention and nodded when she asked if they could slip through the noose of guards. She could see that the fact she was a woman no longer mattered to these two fighters; they only saw a person that managed to free them and give them a chance to strike back at those that would chain them.

An army of two—not bad for a start.

"See that tent over there?" Qulanda pointed.

"Yeah."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. That's the one of their supply rooms. Both of you sneak down there and raid it. Bring me two solid pieces of wood, oil, and a flint if you can find one. Meet me by that outbuilding there."

"Ah, ma'am?" that was from Kemp. "Where will you be?"

"Getting rid of the guards that are awake. You have your assignment. Go."

Without waiting to see if they would follow her down, Qulanda darted from her hiding spot and moved into the camp. She pulled the knife from her pocket and recalled the rotation of the patrols from yesterday.

Like a wrath moving through the darkness, Qulanda ran parallel to the patrol. She shadowed one of the two guards. Silently, she followed him as he came within sight of his fellow guard, nodded, and then move off to the next watchpoint. For a brief time, he was out of sight of the second guard. The stable was between them.

Qulanda turned onto his path and quickened her pace. At three steps away she spoke, "Excuse me, I'm lost."

The guard jumped in the air and spun about, fumblingly for his saber as he did so. Qulanda came forward in a rush and plunged the knife into his gut. None of the pirates she'd seen wore armor so there was nothing to stop or deflect the blade from striking something vital. Before he had time to cry out, she savagely twisted the knife and yanked upward.

The guard went down in an expanding pool of his own blood and viscera. Qulanda didn't bother wiping the blade clean before jamming it back into its sheath. She only had a few moments before the second guard came back into view and realized something was wrong...and only minutes before daybreak and the whole camp realized something was wrong. She had to get the odds in her favor fast.

Qulanda grabbed the quiver from the dead pirate, hefted his bow, and grabbed his sheathed saber as an afterthought. Running, she slipped the quiver on her back and hooked the saber's baldric over her shoulder.

No longer bothering to jump from shadow to shadow, Qulanda bolted around the far side of the stable.

"Vrin?" a concerned voice called out. The second guard.

Qulanda cursed heatedly as she rounded the stable. The high hills around the encampment still kept most of the rising sunlight from reaching them, but there was now enough light to see from one end of the camp to the other. It was enough for a woman that had been an archer since the age of seven.

In one smooth motion, Qulanda drew an arrow from the quiver on her back, nocked it, and raised the bow. Silence fell over her mind. Gone was the worry about time, about the safety of the prisoners depending on her to show them the door to freedom, and the pain of Penda's fate mercifully lessened. There was nothing in Qulanda's awareness but the feel of the yew bow; the guard standing at the other end of the stable, his profile to her displaying a mildly concerned expression; and the spot she wanted the arrow to hit.

It was half a second to everyone else; it was an eternity to Qulanda. With the ease of a breath leaving lungs, she let the arrow fly.

The missile crossed the distance between them in a blink carrying the sharp whistle of approaching death. The pirate never had time to react. He dropped dead to the ground with the butt end of the arrow protruding from his neck.

Qulanda was again running. She stripped the guard of his saber and jammed the arrows from his quiver into hers. Three missiles wouldn't fit so she stuck them between her belt and trousers. She didn't waste a moment and headed for the still quiet barracks.

Borka and Kemp were waiting in front of the darkened building as she had commanded. They had three bottles of lamp oil at their feet and two beams nearly as long as they were tall propped against their shoulders.

"Here." She tossed them the sabers. "Don't cut your hands off." Without breaking stride, she grabbed two bottles of oil and walked to the building's door. In their haste to save time and keep expenses low, the pirates had built these sleeping quarters with poorly crafted wood and only one door.

Qulanda opened the bottles, tossed the stoppers aside, and eased open the door. Men slept in two rows that ran from one end of the room to the other. There were two dozen. Qulanda placed one bottle on the floor and rolled it down the length of the wooden building. The bottle came to a rest against the rear wall with a small clink, a trail of oil in its wake and a pool forming around it.

Stepping into the building, Qulanda splashed oil from the second bottle across the front of the building, making sure to get it as close to the rafters as possible.

"Bring those boards," she commanded. Retrieving the third bottle of oil, she tore a strip of cloth from her cloak and jammed one end in the bottle. "When I tell you to, push those boards against the door as hard as you can. Push the ends into the ground so the more weight is thrown against them, the deeper they go."

Borka and Kemp gave grim smiles of approval at her plan. Inside that building were men that committed themselves to death with their delight in enslavement and killing. Qulanda felt no pity for them. She took a flint from Kemp and struck a flame to the end of rolled cloth coming out of the bottle. Qulanda drew back and threw the bottle as hard as she could into the building.

"Now!" she cried.

Even before the two men finished jamming the beams against the door, and making sure their ends were firmly in the ground, Qulanda could hear the entire room ignite with a whoosh. Minutes later smoke was filtering out in between the boards on the roof. Men inside screamed in terror and began pounding against the door.

Qulanda ignored the cries for help and turned to her two soldiers. "Go get the other prisoners," she said. "Tell them to come out here armed with anything they can find. Sticks, stones, wit; I don't care. I want them massed and ready to begin rounding up the rest of the pirates here within minutes."

"Yes, ma'am!" they said in unison and raced back to the cave opening.

"Watch the traps!" Qulanda called after them. She sighed and turned away from the burning barracks. She pulled those three arrows from her belt.

With both the command tent and the gates in her line of sight, Qulanda waited. The commander came out first. He was still struggling to pull his trousers on when he stumbled out into the camp. "Fire!" he yelled. "Why isn't anyone manning the bucket bri—" One of Qulanda's arrows caught him in the throat and cut off the rest of his words.

Again she waited.

The gates opened and the two patrol units ran into the compound. Two of the four went down before the realization struck that an enemy fired upon them. Qulanda pulled two arrows from the quiver, placed one between her teeth, and nocked the other. One of the remaining guardsmen dashed for the cover of the gates. She took him down with an arrow to the back. The last made a stand and reached for his bow. His arrow was halfway nocked and his eyes still searching for her location when her missile was screeching to him.

She made a mental note to collect those arrows before the day was out.

Qulanda turned her back to the dead guardsmen and watched the barracks burn. The screams had stopped and the fire had spread to the roof of the long building. It wouldn't be long now before the entire complex crumbled.

Without guards or a reserve force to back them up, without a commander in charge, and with only a handful of pirates patrolling the deep tunnels of the prison, the encampment now belonged to her.

It was time to address the troops.

* * *

"Today we have achieved our first victory against your slave masters," Qulanda called to the men clustered in the center of the encampment. A cheer rose from her words. It was full day now and around the crowd of former prisoners were the pirates leftover from the uprising. She had them stripped of weapons and gear and forced to kneel.

Standing watch of the group of five were former prisoners that Qulanda had personally picked for such duty. They were hardened men that barely hung onto an air of civility. Dangerous men that would take delight in killing. Just what she needed for this next phase.

"But we are not done yet," Qulanda continued when the celebration had died down. "The pirates still control the island and all the ways off it. This Captain Desmond Naser, the man that signed your conviction orders still lives."

"Let's go get him!" a young man cried.

Qulanda nodded. "We will." She had to shout over the hoots and whistles of the crowd. "But we will do so my way. If you don't, then you will die just as most of the _Isabo_'s crew died. The pirates do not fight fair and you cannot win if you attempt to engage them directly.

"If the pirates want to fight dirty, then that's how we'll respond. We will become killers in the night." Qulanda began walking the line of recruits. "We'll burn them! Cut their throats while they sleep! Arm the women they lay with and stab them in the back while their trousers are around their ankles!"

"Why should we listen to you?" a voice yelled behind her.

Qulanda spun and raised her bow in a blink. Before the man that had called out could take a step closer to her, she had an arrow aimed at his chest. "I have declared war upon the pirates of this island," she said. "I'm not looking for prisoners, apologies, or cries of mercy. I will give no quarter to those that built this encampment. They will die by my hand or I will die by theirs. It can end no other way.

"If you seek to stop me, and if you side against me you are doing just that, then say so now so I can kill you here and save myself the trouble later."

The man saw the truth and commitment in her blue-eyed gaze and backed off.

Qulanda lowered the bow and released the tension on the string. She turned to one of her prisoners. "Tell me about the camp at the lagoon," she said. "Intelligence that will aid me _might_ save your life."

The pirate stared at her defiantly and spat on her boots.

Qulanda nodded to one of the big men behind the pirates. "Cut his throat," she commanded.

The pirate struggled against his bonds and shouted that he would help her. She had already moved on to the next pirate in line when the first dropped bleeding to the ground. Silence hung heavy in the air. Former prisoners began exchanging fear filled glances.

"You will tell me what I want to know," Qulanda told the pirate. "Don't and you join your friend."

The frightened man nodded and agreed to answer all her questions.

"When are the survivors of the _Isabo_ going to arrive here?"

"Today, ma'am," the pirate said quickly. "The wagons were sent out yesterday and are expected back today."

"How many men are on those wagons—of your people, I mean?"

"About a dozen, ma'am. There was reportedly a Goron with the attacks but she is still on the _Freebooter_."

"Caden," Qulanda said without turning, "I want you to take a dozen men and ready an ambush for those wagons. Take the best archers we have here. Arm the prisoners you rescue and take them back to the lagoon. We'll make our stand there."

"Yes, ma'am."

Qulanda questioned the remaining pirates for the next hour. She milked them for every bit of information they had. It didn't matter how small or trivial it was, she listened patiently. She asked him in detail about the tent on the beach filled with captured women, watching the faces of her makeshift army. The most sickened and outraged ones would become her second strike team.

When she was satisfied that they had told her all they knew, Qulanda ordered the pirates locked in the cells of the cave complex.

"Should I take rations of food and water down to them before we leave?" Kemp asked as the pirates were lead away.

Qulanda turned a cold gaze on him. "Why?"

"Well, if we are going to be at the lagoon..."

"I have declared no quarter against these men," she told the young solider. "It's not my problem if only one of the men we captured paid attention when I said that. Let those men rot in the same hole they threw my future into. If they want food, they can eat each other."

Qulanda turned on her heel and marched off. She could hear the former prisoners whispering among themselves when they thought she was out of earshot.

"—ice queen," one muttered.

"Killed all those men single handed," another said.

"Caden said they wiped out her family."

"I wouldn't want to be the pirates."

That last statement was the only one Qulanda agreed with.


	6. Found

****

Chapter Six – Found

Wrapped in shadow and dark cloth, Qulanda moved through the pirate camp on the beach. Staying away from the spheres of light cast by their bonfires, Qulanda walked to the _Freebooter_. A crude but effective dock had been fashioned allowing gangplanks to reach the beachside campsite.

The apparent lack of security at first alarmed Qulanda. For there were no organized guard rings surrounding the lagoon. The pirates had left their flank wide open to attack never thinking an enemy would attempt to strike from the inland. They controlled the waterways around the island, no doubt running water patrols to keep an eye on the other side of the island, and felt secure without guards.

Qulanda was about to change that.

Underneath her cloak, she carried an arsenal. She had pilfered another quiver of arrows from one of the dead pirates and now wore two across her back. One rose just above her left shoulder and the second above her right; the baldrics crisscrossed her chest. Her yew bow slapped reassuringly against her leg with every step. She also carried several knifes on her belt and a pouch filled with a few special rags.

It was only a couple of hours past sunset and her teams were fully in place. While waiting for Caden to return when she was hiding in Penda's cell, Qulanda had begun formulating this plan. She took what forces she had, including the rescued _Isabo_ crew, and divided them into three groups.

One did exactly what Qulanda was doing now; slipping quietly into the camp. In the jumble of men celebrating their big victory over the _Isabo_ sailors—Qulanda suspected they would celebrate that for some time given the chance—no one noticed the addition of a couple of strange faces. Qulanda had ordered them to get close to the rape tent and wait for her signal.

Another group just beyond the forest line, armed to the teeth, awaited her signal. The third and last group was the back up for her little army. She told them to take the wagons and their teams around to the far side of the lagoon and wait until they were called for. Qulanda had a lot of hope invested in that third group.

It was dark, the pirates were unsuspecting, everyone was in place, and all waited for Qulanda. The guide hadn't wanted to be in the main attack force—it was Caden's job to lead that—or anywhere near the rape tent, and she certainly wasn't going to wait with the third group. Her part of the attack plan was dependent on her place in the heart of it all. She continued on to the _Freebooter_.

There was a steady, if widely spaced, line of people moving away from the _Freebooter_. Apparently, when the ale was flowing in the center of the camp, the required attendance on the flagship was few. That was fine with Qulanda. She bowed her head and moved up one of the gangplanks.

The _Freebooter_ was larger than the _Isabo_. It took Qulanda a few minutes of searching to gain her bearings. There was only a loose scattering of men on deck and none of them seemed to pay her any mind. The air stank of cheap ale. Many of the men on deck were obviously drunk.

She found what she was looking for at the head of the foredeck. Wrapped thrice around in heavy chains was Duena. The Goron was strapped to the deck, looking forlorn and lost.

Ignoring her friend's plight, Qulanda walked past without a second glance. She moved toward Duena's guard. A young pirate, probably barely old enough to shave, sat unhappily with his gaze on the party on the beach instead of on his charge. He looked up when he heard Qulanda's boots clop against the deck.

Qulanda let her hood fall back enough to reveal her face to him. She gave him a smile and bent closer. "Hi there, sailor," she said.

He returned the smile and didn't move toward the saber on his waist. "Hi." The pirate was still smiling when Qulanda slipped the knife into his chest. She twisted the blade, felt it slide across bone, and pulled it free.

The pirate gave a gurgle and then slumped forward. Qulanda grabbed him to keep him from sliding to the deck and propped him up the best she could. Hopefully, the others would think he had fallen asleep on duty. After a couple of minutes of searching, she found a set of keys in his tunic.

Giving a glance to the deckhands sharing the _Freebooter_ with her, Qulanda returned to Duena's side.

"Qulanda!" Duena whispered in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think?" Qulanda tried one key in the lock holding the chains on her friend, grimaced, and tried another.

"There are too many," Duena said. "Even if I had my sword, we could never fight our way from this vessel. You must leave before they find you."

One lock snapped open. Qulanda turned to the other two. "I came with friends," she said. "I have a plan that should get all of us out of here. I need you to wait here for a little bit, though. Once the pirates are otherwise engaged, find a sword, and help. Do you understand?"

Another lock opened. Duena nodded. "I wish I could have my Goron made blade, but the captain has it in his cabin."

"Well, I'll give it back once we set sail from here, okay? In the meantime, use sleeping boy's over there."

"Perhaps I will seek out another as well," the Goron said. "During the first battle with the pirates, I showed an aptitude for fighting with two swords simultaneously that I did not know I possessed."

Qulanda gave her friend a look. "Well go ahead, Duena." The last lock opened and she moved to stand. "Remember what I told you."

"Wait." Duena's hand caught Qulanda's. Her gaze searched Qulanda's emotionless eyes for a long moment. "What has happened to you?"

"I gave up my soul so that I could survive," Qulanda answered, then left the Goron and started for the gangplank.

There were more people returning to the ship this time. A couple peered at her, but Qulanda kept her head down and moved quickly on. She acknowledged a couple of waves with a barely discernable nod.

Once off the long gangplanks, Qulanda started for the main campsite. There was no avoiding the spheres of light now. She had to be right in the middle of the camp to line up her shots.

Passing through one circle of light, Qulanda kept her gazed turned toward the darkness beside her. Nervousness was now beginning to eat at her stomach. She had never commanded a full-fledged combat action before. The rebellion at the prison camp was a sneak attack that capitalized on a room full of sleeping soldiers. This night men she ordered into position were going to die. It was a large mouthful for her to swallow. The simple girl from Visola that only wanted to follow the cute town rebel everywhere she went was about to call for a battle charge.

Qulanda took that as proof the world was truly a mad place.

Stopping outside the fourth bonfire's sphere of light, Qulanda spotted her target. She stopped for a moment, lined the shot, then kept walking until she saw the second target. Turning to the left she walked for another hundred paces and found the third. Along with getting close to the rape tent, she had also ordered the second strike team to leave three boxes painted black near the outbuildings and tents on the beach.

Caden had come up with the idea for the boxes. He had found a cache of firecorns when they looted the prison camp. After getting her approval, Caden had worked on removing the locking joints of the little bombs while they traveled to the beach. He then filled three boxes with the explosive powder in each. A perfect distraction, he had said.

At her instruction, the leftover firecorns went to the third group.

Qulanda was in the very heart of the pirate camp now. She could not stay here long before someone became suspicious of the dark clad person no one had seen before. If even one got close enough to see that she was a woman, the entire plan was ruined.

Forcing all her fear and nervousness down, Qulanda reached into the pouch hanging from her belt and withdrew three of the rags she had prepared before hand. The smell of lamp oil found her nose.

Taking a look around and making sure no one was watching, Qulanda drew three arrows from one of the quivers on her back and wrapped the rags around them. She withdrew a flint from another pouch.

Her bow was in her hand a moment later and she placed two of the arrows between her teeth. She struck the flint several times over the arrow still in her hand. The oil soaked rag quickly ignited with a whoosh.

Mindful not to burn her fingers, Qulanda nocked the arrow, drew back the string, and took aim. In that moment, when it was just her and the arrow and the target, the fear disappeared completely in Qulanda. She found peace inside and let old instincts guide her hands as she aimed.

And then the arrow was free.

Qulanda didn't waste time to watch the fire arrow fly to its target; she spun on her heel, lit another missile, and took aim. Two targets hit, one to go. In a blink the bow's string was taut and the third rag smoldering. Three targets, three flame arrows, three hits.

Without bothering to hide her bow from sight, Qulanda started to run. She now had to get as far away from the heart as possible. Even with a little oil rubbed on the outside of the boxes, and Caden estimated it would take a minute before a spark found the magic black powder inside.

Complete pandemonium was about to break out and Qulanda would not live long if she tried to fight the pirates in the center of it. She'd done the first part of the plan. She headed back toward the _Freebooter_. As she ran, Qulanda pulled another arrow free. Absently, Qulanda nocked the missile but did not pull the string back.

And then the first box exploded.

As far as explosions go, it wasn't much. A loud boom with a concussion that blew a dent in the side of the outbuilding. Smoke flooded the area, but Qulanda could not see any fire.

Men started shouting. They sounded more annoyed than alarmed. That tone changed when the second bomb went off. Pirates started running to the center of the camp, struggling to make sense of what was happening to their constructions. The third bomb did the most damage. People were close by and the force of the blast lifted them into the air. A lamp must have been sitting near the box because a loud whoosh followed the blast and blue tinged fire raced out in an expanding circle.

Qulanda heard people yelling in front of her and tore her gaze away from the three blast sites. Pirates stationed on the _Freebooter_ were coming to see what the clamor was. Qulanda didn't hesitate. She took aim and buried an arrow in the chest of the man leading the charge. He went down and those behind him tripped and fell the rest of the way down the gangplank.

The shrill of three more arrows filled the night and those pirates would never rise again. Qulanda kicked them into the water and ran up the gangplank. She met another man on the deck of the ship; a quick glance at his face told her what side he was on and she drove a knife into his gut.

"Hey!" came a startled shout.

Qulanda turned to see a wide-eyed man running at her. At five paces away, a shadow detached from the wall and intercepted the pirate. There was a grunt and the first man went down hard. The shadowy figure turned to Qulanda.

She peered underneath his cowl and saw ash smeared across his cheeks. "Hello, Borka."

"It's started?" he asked.

"It's reckoning day," Qulanda confirmed. "Notify the others and tell them to start cleaning out the ship."

"You'll help?"

"I'll try and get back," she promised. For some unknown reason, when Qulanda was explaining her plan to the soldiers, all the men had wanted her to be on their team. She could only assume it was because they didn't trust her and wanted to keep an eye on her. "Go now, and don't scare Duena."

Borka vanished back into the shadows and Qulanda turned to watch the pirate camp. She counted softly to herself. Two minutes after the first explosion, Qulanda's army attacked.

They came from the surrounding forest like wildmen. Madmen wielding sabers and clubs coming to extract vengeance. A line twenty strong led the charge. The rush of men widened as they continued to run from the wood line. She couldn't see him from this far away, but Qulanda knew Caden was somewhere up front.

Slowed by the effects of ale, and stupefied by the impossibility of what they were seeing, the pirates closest to the line of attack never raised a defense. Caden's group didn't even give them time to. Screaming obscenities, the names of loved ones lost, and for freedom, Qulanda's army met the pirates.

The ragtag fighting force showed no mercy. Sabers flashed in the firelight and men fell dead in the sand. Now the pirates were beginning to recover from the surprise and raced to meet the threat.

Knowing Borka, Duena, and the others had her back, Qulanda ran to the beach without a second glance over her shoulder.

Pirates struggled into sword belts began forming a column to repel the attackers. Those that were already armed came forward swinging. Former prisoners fell to that counterstrike, but sheer numbers overwhelmed the defending pirates. Meanwhile, the defensive column began to tighten.

Onward Qulanda ran. She stopped every few steps to nock an arrow and let it fly into the pack of raiders. Her army and the pirates' column met head on. The sound of swords against swords, arrows humming through the air, and the mortal cries of men filled the night.

Qulanda knew her men couldn't maintain such a head butt for very long; the pirates still had greater numbers and access to familiar territory. This was the type of conflict they were used to fighting and winning. They expected everyone else to play fair. Her army only had to hold the line for several minutes. The third team was about to arrive.

Her cloak billowing behind her, Qulanda ran into the center of their campsite. Gone was the fear from before. Adrenaline was flowing now and everything save for the immediate faded from view.

She caught sight of a couple of her soldiers. Wielding stolen sabers and clad in clothing removed from their former jailers, her boys fought hard to gain one step of ground after another. All had smeared their faces with ash.

That had been Kemp's idea. He worried about members of their side killed by mistake in the chaos of the melee. In the absence of uniforms, her men had to come up with definable markings fast. Ash was readily available and offered the best solution.

One of her men took a sword slash across the forehead and stumbled back blindly. Two pirates raised their blades and moved in for the kill. Two arrows whistled through the air and both pirates fell short of their target.

Pulling another arrow free of the left quiver, Qulanda pushed deeper into the fray. All around her men fought each other. Sparks flew from crossed swords. Hot blood sprayed the air and screams of pain sounded. Everywhere Qulanda looked she saw death trying to gain a foothold. Here, in the heart of the conflict, pirates seemed to be surrounding them. Slowly the defensive column was pushing her army back to the forest line and away from the light.

Given enough time, the pirates would have succeeded in repelling them that way. But Qulanda's plan stole time from them at every possible turn. With the beautiful sounds of hoof beats against the sand, the third strike team arrived.

Surprise caught the pirates for a second time. Riding up the beach from their flank was a company of horse. Fifteen strong, the former prisoners and _Isabo_ crewmembers rode the shaggy bays that once were used to pull the wagons to and from the prison. All riders carried sabers and a bandoleer of firecorns. It was perhaps the most ill trained, oddest looking horse company to ever see combat, but it was something Qulanda had that the pirates had not planned for or ever faced.

Splitting into two squads, the fifteen mounted men encircled the pirates. They were still far away from her, but Qulanda saw the brightly smiling face of Kemp riding lead for one of those squads. At his command, they loosened a fusillade of firecorns.

The little jewels landed in the middle of the defensive column and exploded. Fire flashed and bodies flew through the air. Even from her vantagepoint, Qulanda could feel the concussions from fifteen explosions reverberate through her entire body.

"Forward!" she cried, rallying the troops. "Bring them to their knees and cut them down!"

Heartened by their leader's call, the makeshift army pushed forward with renewed energy. With the push from one end, and the horse company cutting a path through their ranks at the other, the column fell apart. Men ran in every direction, no longer caring about defending the camp or their fellow thief; now they only wanted to escape death.

Dodging running pirates swinging their swords wildly, thundering horses with riders that were handling their blades just as skillfully, Qulanda made her way to one of the bonfires. She reached into the pouch on her belt and withdrew another oil soaked rag. She had another order to give her troops—to the second strike team anyway.

Qulanda wrapped the rag around the arrow's tip and thrust it into the flames. Immediately the rag caught fire. Before she could launch it, though, a pirate came screaming from the darkness, his sword raised.

"Oh Light!" Qulanda cursed, jumping to the side. She landed hard on her side, trying desperately to keep the arrow right side up so the rag wouldn't fall off. She didn't know how many rags she had left and needed to signal the second team.

The pirate spun about and slashed at her. Qulanda rolled away, almost lighting her sleeve on fire while doing so, and kicked blindly at the man. Her boot made contact with something firm and she heard the wind leave his lungs.

Qulanda scrambled around and jumped to her feet. Half standing, she charged the stunned man and knocked him back into the bonfire. Logs shifted underneath his weight and crumbled to red embers. Orange sparks flew high into the air. The man let free a terrible scream. He clawed desperately at the sand around the fire trying to climb out even as his skin blistered and ruptured.

Turning away from the ugly sight, the guide raised the still burning arrow and shot it in a wide arc over the battlefield. That was the signal for her last team. Now she would find out if Borka was successful on the _Freebooter_ and if the other team members managed to get into the rape tent.

Qulanda started back for the _Freebooter_. It was there that she would make one final stand with her army. She could do little for her men down here. On the _Freebooter_ she would join with the others armed with bows and provide support for the foot troopers. Absently, Qulanda reached back and felt her quivers. Between the two holders, she only had five arrows left. She would have to get more from Borka.

It didn't seem possible to her that she had fired off almost all of the missiles she'd loaded. Everything seemed to pass in a blur. Qulanda had no idea how much time had passed since the arrival of the mounted men. She didn't think much time had elapsed, but couldn't be sure.

The battlefield was chaos set free. Everywhere men fought, screamed, and fell wounded or dead to the ground. The air stank of human flesh burning, smoke, blood, sweat, and death. She saw a couple dead horses lying on the ground; some with their riders slumped on the saddle.

Upturned sand stretched for as far as her eyes could see. Much of it was wet and dark with blood. Thrown haphazardly around the ground were severed limbs, some still clutching swords and knifes. She saw some dead pirates with arrows protruding from their bodies that she didn't remember shooting; Borka must have been successful. Qulanda doubled her pace.

Behind her came a new cry to the battle: one of enraged women. Qulanda smiled and turned to the sound of the voices, to the rape tent. Flooding from the now shredded tent front, came a horde of women. They were all barefoot and some dressed only in torn and stained undergarments, but they were a new problem for the pirates to address. Close on the heels of the women was the second strike team, still clad in pirate regulars but now sporting streaks of ash on their faces.

The women rushed to the pirates and attacked with tightly gripped stones, sticks, the occasional knife, or with just their bare hands. Qulanda had ordered the men most outraged at the thought of the rape tent to encircle it and wait for her signal. At her command they entered the tent, freed the women, and gave the ones still strong enough to fight and carry weapons a chance to get back at their captors. They were an odd, but fearsome sight.

The pirates now struggled to face women made mad with righteous rage, a ragtag army that refused to give ground, archers firing from the deck of the _Freebooter_, and a company of horse cutting through their lines and turning them back at every opportunity. It was pure madness, the underworld given life, and it was exquisite to Qulanda's eyes.

Halfway to the _Freebooter_, Qulanda spotted a group of three men running down the beach away from the battlefield. She never expected to be able to round all the pirates up—in fact her condition for victory was just getting these former prisoners away from the island—but these three men held her attention. She stopped in the middle of the battle and studied the tall one in the center. He was tall, clean shaven, and clad in a red duster. Boots that might once have been brightly polished were now caked with blood and gore. A saber hung from his belt and moved with a comfortable familiarity with each long stride.

Something in that man's stride, or in the way other pirates made way for him, or perhaps it was a whispering from the Spirits of Light told Qulanda that this man in the center of the line was Captain Desmond Naser. The man that had locked Penda away. Qulanda changed her course and ran after him.

Quickly, though, she saw that she would never catch him. There were too many men still clustering the battlefield, too much distance already gained by the fleeing captain. Qulanda bit the inside of her mouth and looked around desperately. "Kemp!" she screamed, turning back into the heart of fray.

Men came at her with swords raised, but Qulanda darted past them without a second look. "Kemp!"

Riding like a herder corralling running sheep, Kemp rode along the edge of the engagement zone. Somehow, her cries reached him. Pulling the reins of his bay, he started for her.

Qulanda gestured wildly. She urged him on and pointed at the escaping captain. Desmond would not escape her. She would pack these men on the _Freebooter_ and send them off to Calatia and stay alone before she would let Penda's killer go free.

Without waiting for him to slow, Qulanda grabbed the bay's saddle and swung herself up behind Kemp. "After that man!" she yelled. "Now!"

Kemp didn't question her orders. He dug in his heels and cast the large workhorse into a full run. Men and flashes of firelight caught in steel passed by in a blur in Qulanda's peripheral vision.

She reached back and pulled an arrow free. Gripping the moving horse tightly with her knees, Qulanda half stood and took aim. She jostled back and forth and could not gain her quiet center. The arrow went wide.

Qulanda swore heatedly. She waited several agonizingly long moments, watching as the three men grew closer, and then said to Kemp, "Circle around them and cut them off!"

Kemp started to say "yes ma'am" but she was gone before he could begin. Qulanda dropped to the ground, rolled when the hard beach slammed into her side, and pushed shakily to her feet. Determination drove her. Her obsession again had a focus. She would feel pain later; right now she wanted that man's blood.

Her fourth arrow was nocked and ready as she ran. Kemp flew past the three figures with a sudden burst of speed from his tired mount and turned them away from the forest line.

Led by Desmond, the group turned to the side and attempted to go around. A sixth sense seemed to warn one of the two bodyguards for he turned to see Qulanda ready in an archer's pose moments before she let her missile free. He yelled a warning and pushed Desmond out of the way at the last second...and took the arrow in the chest as a reward for his selfless act.

Desmond ran on but the second guard stopped and turned. He also had a bow and an arrow at the ready. Qulanda looked for cover even as she reached for her third missile. There was no cover and even with her speed, the bodyguard had her beat. He did not have Kemp beat, however. With a pounding of hooves against sand, Kemp rode past and slashed downward with his saber. The bodyguard's corpse fell headless to the ground and his arrow flew wide.

"I'll take care of them," Kemp said to her. "You take out Naser."

The "them" Qulanda realized were a sudden rush of pirates running in her direction, either to escape the combat or to help their captain. Whatever the reason, she was almost defenseless in the path of the men.

"All horsemen form on me!" Kemp yelled. He raised his bloody saber high into the air. "For the captain!" He loosened the reins and let his bay thunder past Qulanda.

Mounted soldiers all over the battlefield heeded his call and rode in at full gallops to help. Forty paces from Qulanda they came together and formed an unbreakable line against the pirates. The raiders turned back toward the waiting blades and arrows of Qulanda's makeshift army, now peppered with sword-wielding women. The cry of "for the captain" was picked up and carried all the way back to the _Freebooter_.

Qulanda had no idea who this captain was the army was fighting and dying for, but she was thankful for the opening. She nocked her third arrow, took aim, and buried it deep in the already injured thigh of Captain Desmond Naser.

The tall man went down in mid stride just paces away from the forest. He clawed at the sand and turned back to watch her slowly approach.

The second arrow was up and freed before he could open his mouth. That one hit his shoulder and pinned his red duster to his flesh. Naser cried out in pain.

Slowly, Qulanda pulled her last arrow free. "I am Qulanda Rinter," she said walking to the captain. "You have no idea what you have done to me, but I want you to see what I have done to you."

"Burn in the underworld!" Desmond grimaced in pain.

Qulanda nodded. "I probably will, but I'll send you to save my place for a while." She nocked and raised the last missile.

"Wait, wait!" Desmond held his hands out in an open gesture. "I surrender. You've won. I'll go willingly with you."

Qulanda paused in her stance, holding the butt end of the arrow nimbly between her tightly clenched first two fingers. "I marvel at your self-importance," she said coldly. "To think that you are somehow important to me. Someone once told me that if the heart of your organization—you—was removed, the whole would die. I am living proof that the absence of a heart doesn't always kill the beast; sometimes, it can make it stronger.

"However, I know your beast will never rise again. I have already taken the head and now the heart will be mine as well."

"But I have surrendered!" Desmond cried. "You must show mercy!"

"Why?" she asked. "How many asked you for mercy? Maybe in the next life you'll be bested by a better good guy." She relaxed her fingers.

The arrow hit his throat with enough force to snap his head back. Qulanda heard something wet pop when his head hit the ground. Desmond Naser died quite undignifiedly. The guide turned and walked back to her troops without a glance back.

* * *

The battle went on for the next two hours. Heavy combat ended not long after Desmond's death, but small groups of pirates, cut off from forming into anything larger by Kemp and his horse company, continued to fight.

Caden, his wiry body covered in blood and gore, led the ground forces as they pounded against the remaining pirates. Duena, again armed with her Goron blade, fought beside him. She was a dizzying blur as she spun and danced through the forms of the blade. Men fell by the tens around her.

And on the deck of the newly captured _Freebooter_, Qulanda led the second team in launching missile strikes. They stood in an unbroken line on the foredeck with quivers on their backs and bows in their hands. The bowstrings sounded in unison and sent arrow after arrow into the heart of the pirates.

Several times some pirates threw down their weapons in surrender, but they only fell faster than the ones still armed. Qulanda's order of no quarter was still in place and no one dared go against it. Seeing sure death in front of them, many of the remaining pirates fled into the forest.

At Qulanda's command, her battle-wearied troops let them go.

The sun rose on the remains of a killing field. Bodies lay cast about like driftwood after a hurricane. Men, women, and horses had all died together. The wounded were everywhere. Some walked underneath their own power, and others still were supported by their comrades. In total, a little less than half of the men and women Qulanda had gathered to fight the pirates had lived to see the daybreak.

The survivors, some with weapons still bared, walked burdened by tiredness but with purpose through the remains of the camp.

"Strip it down," Qulanda called as she walked across blast-blackened ground. "Take whatever supplies we can carry. I want off this rock before the other pirate ships return or before those animals out in the forest get brave again."

"Yes, ma'am!" The soldiers around her saluted and moved to spread her orders. Steady streams of people were climbing the gangplanks to the _Freebooter_, carrying supplies and wounded men. Duena moved through the outbuildings, using her superior strength to carry the crates her fellow sailors could not budge.

"Ma'am?" Kemp called, running up.

Qulanda turned and forced the tiredness from her gaze. "Yes?"

"Ah, what about the dead, ma'am? What should we do with the fallen?"

Qulanda started to say leave them all behind. She didn't know how long of a respite she had won from the pirates. There were still three ships loaded with men, and whatever remained out in the forest. They didn't have time to care for the dead. And yet, she owed them something. They had died with her leading them.

"Wrap ours and take them aboard," she said finally. "We'll bury them at sea."

Kemp smiled. He seemed to like that idea. "What about the pirates, ma'am?"

Qulanda didn't hesitate this time. "Leave them for the birds, Kemp."

Kemp put his fist to his chest in salute. "It will be done, captain!" He turned and ran off.

"Captain?" Qulanda wondered. She shrugged it away. He must have been a sailor before Desmond captured him and that was simply what he said when told what to do. Just a gut reflex, nothing more.

"You certainly give a lot of orders for a guide," a familiar voice said behind her.

Qulanda spun. It was Tibs. "Ron! You survived." She came forward and hugged him.

"Ow! Watch the ribs."

"Sorry." She pulled back and smiled a full smile. His face was puffy with bruises and blood crusted much of his hair. "You look good."

"You look different," he replied. "I wanted to talk to you before the battle, but you were surrounded by your war council and I couldn't get through. I hear I have you to thank for freeing me. I knew you had it in you."

Qulanda shook her head. "I didn't do anything special. I just did what I had to in order to get off this island. These people needed a guide and doing that is all I know."

"You have gained their respect," he said. "That's something I don't think I managed to do with the _Isabo_'s crew when I took over. I knew the day we met that you were the right person for this, even if you didn't want to admit it."

"Back in Cape Town, that wasn't denial," she said. "I never wanted to fight pirates. I told you then that I wasn't the person you were looking for."

Ron smiled and gave her a disbelieving look.

Qulanda sighed and decided that she was going to track down this mysterious resident of Cape Town that people mistook for her. She was going to find that woman and ask her where she was when the battle of the Lost Brother Islands raged.

It took another hour of loading before the _Freebooter_ was ready for launch. Qulanda watched from the command deck as some of her men still milled about the destroyed beach camp, looking for any more of their dead.

Members of her makeshift army filled the massive deck. Below deck were the wrapped bodies of the dead, the wounded, and the women from the rape tent. Qulanda didn't know yet what she was going to do with all these people; her only focus was getting away from the Shield Wall. It circled the horizon reminding them how it effectively penned them in.

Qulanda was eager to get away, but knew the body recovery had to be complete. She owed that to the men.

"Ahoy!" one of the boys on the foredeck called. "Something's coming through the Wall!"

Qulanda went cold. They were out of time with nowhere to run. The pirates were returning!

Beside her, Ron spoke up: "How many?"

"Just one," the boy replied. "She's coming in with sails drawn."

Qulanda followed the startled pointing of the men against the railing. She could now see the bow of the new ship as it pushed through the waves moving steadily to the lagoon.

"We have to recall the search parties," Tibs said. "Our only chance is to try getting to open sea and out sailing them."

Qulanda agreed and began issuing orders for the recall. It took ten minutes of frantic running and hurried pulling to get the men aboard, the gangplanks removed, and the anchor raised.

Tibs took the wheel and brought the ship about. Qulanda only half listened to his orders as the cold weight of hopelessness settled on her shoulders. She had done everything she could. She led a rebellion against the pirates, drove them from their main camp, killed their leader, and taken their flagship. That should be the end of it. She won and they lost. And now the other pirates were returning...why couldn't they fight fair?

Slowly, the _Freebooter_ began to move. She cut through the shallow water around the island and began moving toward the Shield Wall. They were going to pass dangerously close to the other vessel, Qulanda saw. It had taken too long getting underway and now the only way to the Shield Wall was past the other ship.

Qulanda took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Oh well, it was a good try at least. "Archers form on me," she called, running down the stairs to the main deck. "All nonessential hands pull inward and stand ready to repel an attack." Maybe if they hit the pirates hard enough, they could use that surprise as cover to escape.

Confident in Ron's skills at the wheel, Qulanda pulled an arrow from her quiver and took up her yew bow. The other archers fell in line around her. Bows held at the ready, arrows nocked, they waited for her command.

Qulanda adopted the classic archer's pose and held her breath. She tried desperately to call the calm within. Beyond the _Freebooter_, the second vessel grew steadily closer. She could see people running to and fro on the deck. Still, though, she did not fire. Qulanda wanted a shot that would stun the pirates and give them enough time to escape. She wanted to kill their captain.

The _Freebooter_ banked sharply to avoid the smaller ship. Within moments, they would be within feet of one another. Qulanda raised her bow. A line of perfect shadows, the other archers, followed suit. They waited for their captain to give the attack command.

Qulanda's sharp gaze found their command deck. She saw the command staff, helmsmen, and a person obscured by a deckhand that could only be the captain. Still, Qulanda waited. This shot had to count.

And then the deckhand moved. Qulanda gasped in shock. The arrow nearly launched when her fingers slipped. The world that she struggled so hard to understand again after it turned upside down, suddenly kicked her in the stomach. What she was seeing on the command deck wasn't possible...and yet...

"Arrows down!" Qulanda yelled. "Everyone stand down!" She dropped the bow and gazed across the deck like a trapped animal. She had to get off this ship. "Extend the gangplank," she ordered. "Now!"

Kemp was closest to the plank. "But we're moving," he protested.

Qulanda was pushing through the throng of stunned men. "I don't care. Do it!"

They hastily swung the plank across the space separating the two ships. Qulanda had jumped on it before the other end fully touched down on the deck of the smaller ship. She nearly fell twice, but determination kept her going. Her body seemed to move of its own accord. It was as though a force more powerful than Qulanda, killer of pirates, would ever be was pulling and guiding her across.

Qulanda's boots thudded against the deck and she was running in a blink. She didn't notice the small handful of armed men that stood along the railing. Even for a ship half the size of the _Freebooter_, there were few men on deck.

Qulanda saw only the command deck and the space between her and it. Breathless, she ran on.

"Qulanda?" a surprised voice cried.

The captain of the smaller ship took the stairs to the main deck three at a time. Her boots hit the deck and she was running. Penda Frye was a narrowly built woman with chestnut hair that extended halfway down her back. Two thin eyebrows arched perfectly over green eyes that shone with powerful intelligence. Below her slightly upturned nose was a flawlessly formed V that merged into slender, kissable lips.

Qulanda and Penda met somewhere between the gangplank that was perilously close to falling between the two ships and the command deck. They met in a furious embrace that blocked out the world.

The confused members of two vessels looked on. Not knowing what else to do, Ron angled the _Freebooter_ alongside the other ship and ordered the gangplank secured.

"I thought you were dead," Qulanda muttered into Penda's mouth. "I was told you were dead." She clawed at her lover's back, as though afraid she would vanish at any second.

"What are you doing here?"

Qulanda reluctantly pulled back, but only slightly, and met Penda's tear filled gaze with one of her own. "I had to find you. Oh, I've come so far. I was up in the highlands of Canor, I met so many interesting people—Duena! You have meet Duena! And then I went to Cape Town, but no one would tell me anything, and then I met this sailor that—"

Penda cupped Qulanda's face. "Shh. I can't follow anything you're saying. You were in Cape Town? When? I didn't see you there."

"We arrived several months ago," Duena replied, stepping tentatively onto the deck. Behind her on the gangplank was Ron. "And left only weeks ago."

Penda looked up and up at Duena. One of the sailors swore heatedly and dropped his saber.

Qulanda wiped tears from her face. She knew she looked like a fool, but surprisingly didn't care. Her head spun with the sudden shift around her. Penda was alive! She kept touching Penda as though to make sure she was real. "This is Duena, my friend. Behind her is the man that convinced me to come out here and helped destroy the pirates, Captain Ron Tibs."

With her left arm around Qulanda's waist, Penda stepped forward and shook their hands. She gasped when Duena's hand completely swallowed hers.

"What are you doing here," Qulanda asked, echoing Penda. "I was told your ship vanished and that you were dead."

Penda smiled slyly and shook her head. "Disappeared and sunk are too different things. There were times I wished I was dead, but I made it through...me and these men, that is." She gestured to the few men standing in front of the railing. All were scruffy and some even looked a touch ill.

"The captain of this ship—the fifth in Desmond's fleet—took me on as a slave. My job was to keep his crew and other slaves healthy with herbs and poultices," she continued. "It took a while, but after binding my time, I saw an opportunity for mutiny. I waited until most of the crew was ill with a fever and then made them a remedy of fald leaf tea."

All of Penda's lessons on being a guide came back to Qulanda in a rush. "But," she said, "the fald plant is poisonous."

Penda smiled grimly. "Our fearless captain didn't know that. I kept as many of the slaves and lowly deckhands from drinking it as I could, and what you see here was all that survived."

Tibs glanced at the men on deck and let free a low whistle.

"I wanted to challenge Desmond, but didn't have enough people to do it," Penda said. "I sailed up and down the Canor coast, desperate for help. I tried Cape Town, but one side of the city wanted to pretend the pirates didn't exist and the other was too afraid to do anything. I journeyed almost to Calatia, but no one would help me." She shrugged. "These men had nothing to go home to, and I had to do whatever I could to stop Desmond. We decided then that we would come back here and make one last stand. Do our best to kill Desmond, even if it took all our lives to do it."

Qulanda glanced pointedly at Ron. "Captain Tibs here had the same thought. He found me because some told him that there was a woman looking to stop the pirates.

"I told you it wasn't me, Ron."

Penda glanced at her, green eyes watering again. "I must have just left when you arrived," she said. "I swear to all the Spirits, Qulanda, that I tried getting a message to you. I couldn't afford a courier through the wasteland, and if I had known that you were—"

Qulanda silenced her with a kiss. "It's okay," she said. "I thought about what I would say when I saw you again, about how I would yell for not contacting me. I even had several speeches rehearsed. Now, though, I can't remember a word. I'm just happy to have you back."

After several intimate moments, they became aware the crews and Duena and Tibs were still watching.

Penda cleared her throat. "Captain, ah, are you the new skipper of the _Freebooter_?"

"No, no," he said with a smile. "That title belongs to Qulanda. You see, I wanted to do just as you planned, but Qulanda was the only one who could take down Desmond."

"When I dueled him," Duena put in, "Captain Desmond told me that his killer would become the heir to the _Freebooter_. Apparently he was correct."

Penda looked at Qulanda in amazement.

"It's been a busy couple of days," Qulanda said with a self-conscious shrug. "Yeah, I think I might have taken on the _Freebooter_, and about forty men as crew...I think."

"We'll have to talk about this later," Penda said, "in your captain's cabin."

"You're going to the _Freebooter_?" Ron asked. "What about this ship?"

"She's scrap at best," Penda said. "We stripped her for material to sell and trade for food. Abandoning her is the merciful thing to do."

Tibs shook his head and glanced up at the furled sails. "You should never let a ship hear you say such things. If you aren't going to use her, I'll take her."

"What?"

He shrugged. "Well, when the _Isabo_ went down, I lost everything. The _Freebooter_ doesn't need another captain. And this looks like a good place to start over."

Qulanda stepped forward. "Are you sure?"

He nodded and slowly smiled. "Yeah. I'll need a couple of your soldiers, Qulanda, to get started, but I'll get them back to you when we put into port at Cape Town." He glanced at Duena. "And a first mate, if she wants the post."

Duena blinked in surprise. "Me?"

"You'd come in handy. What if we run into another horde of water imps? Qulanda can just call upon her horse company, but I'll need a blademaster. The food's bad, the pay questionable, but nothing beats the feel of salt water in your face. What do you say, Duena?"

The Goron looked to Qulanda. "I can't answer for you," Qulanda said. "It'll be hard, but I'll get by without you if you want to go with Ron."

"And it's not like we'll never see each other," Tibs quickly added. "We'll be on the same waves, sailing the same shipping lines."

Duena opened her mouth, closed it again, and finally said, "I accept your offer, Captain Tibs. I am honored to sail under your leadership."

Tibs laughed. "Well all right, then! Why are we just standing here? Let's get under way!"

Qulanda and Tibs embraced and said goodbye. Duena came forward and swept her up in a massive Goron hug. "I shall miss you," she said.

"Me, too," Qulanda gasped. She swayed unsteadily when her boots were again on the deck. "We will see each other soon," she promised.

Qulanda and Penda then went to their respected crews and began offering choices. Several of Penda's crew decided to stay under Tibs, and a handful of Qulanda's agreed to help get the second vessel underway...on the condition they could return to the _Freebooter_ once they reached Cape Town.

After another round of good-byes, Qulanda and Penda walked across the gangplank to the _Freebooter_. Sailors waved and cheered when Penda came aboard. They didn't quite know who she was, but they saw that she made their captain happy and that was enough for them. Qulanda had apparently made a number of friends when she freed them and led them to victory against Desmond.

"What did he mean by a company of horse?" Penda asked as they slowly climbed the stairs to the command deck.

"Ah, I'll tell you later."

Together Qulanda and Penda took up position on the command deck. Kemp stood behind the wheel and waited for the order.

Qulanda pointed to Tibs' ship as it slowly pulled away and turned around. "Follow that ship through the Shield Wall and back to Cape Town," she commanded.

Kemp saluted. "Yes, ma'am!"

Qulanda shook her head and smiled.

"What is it?" Penda asked.

"It's just nice to be home again."


	7. Adagio

****

Epilogue – Adagio

Qulanda mumbled softly to herself and pushed to her feet. The steady rapping on the door continued without interruption. "I'm coming!" she called, pulling a sheet from the bed and wrapping it around herself.

She padded to the cabin's door and opened it a crack. "What?" she demanded.

Kemp stood in the corridor. "Sorry to disturb you, ma'am, but I thought you should know that the women we took on board from the..._tent_ are asking to meet with the ship's captain."

Qulanda sighed. "Tell them that either I or Penda will see them by the end of the day."

Kemp bowed awkwardly and looked suddenly unsure. "You are okay, aren't you, ma'am?"

She gave him a tight-lipped smile. "I'm fine, Kemp."

"It's been a couple of days," he said looking everywhere but at her eyes. "You're not...ill or anything, are you?"

"Penda and I are perfectly fine, thank you." She bent her head and caught his gaze with hers. "I do appreciate your concern."

"It's really the crew's concern, ma'am." He reddened suddenly. "Not that we have been talking," he quickly added. "We just want...we don't wish—"

"Thank the crew for their concern," Qulanda said, saving him the anguish of trying to continue. "We are fine and will be back on deck soon."

Kemp nodded and turned to leave. "Do you need anything, captain? I could have some food sent up."

"We're fine, thank you," she repeated. "Kemp?"

"Yes?"

"_Bye_."

"Good bye, ma'am."

Qulanda pushed the door closed and turned back to the room. Save for a few half-melted candles and the thin shaft of light coming in from the porthole, the captain's cabin was dark. Clothing and ugly wall hangings lay haphazardly about the floor. The entire cabin swayed gently with the rocking of the ship, like a cradle. The musky scent of love and lust mixed with sea salt and hung heavy in the air.

Tripping on junk littering the floor, Qulanda walked back to the bed. Penda sat with her back against the wall, watching her. "I heard," she said. "The crew's getting nervous and the women down below want assurance."

Qulanda gave a small hop a pace away from the bed, landed on top of the covers, threw the sheet aside, and snuggled up to Penda. "Who would have thought sneaking into a prison, leading a rebellion against the jailers, taking those prisoners and overthrowing a ruling tyrant would turn so complex."

"Not to mention taking charge of a huge ship, freeing women being held in slavery, and convincing a horde of men that a guide from Visola is a sea mistress." Penda paused and the jovial tone faded from her voice. "I am proud of you, Qulanda. I can't believe what you accomplished."

Qulanda slipped her arms around Penda and held her close. "I never wanted any of this," she murmured. "I just wanted you."

Penda twirled a lock of Qulanda's tangled hair around one finger. "Joking aside, we have a lot of work ahead of us. The women below are going to need help—more help than I know how to give. And there are still pirates out there."

"I'm not worried about the women," Qulanda said. "We'll give them time, medicine if they need it, and let them know that life is still an option for them."

"Often that's a hard lesson to learn," Penda said. "It's easier for most people to pretend their lives are worthless and surrender control to another."

"The hard lessons are always the ones most helpful to learn," she said quietly, knowingly. "The pirates, however, are something I am worried about. We hurt them, but did we hurt them enough to drive them off?"

Penda shook her head. "I don't think they are going to run like green water imps, Qulanda. And we're in the one ship they would recognize anywhere."

Qulanda closed her eyes. "I hadn't thought of that! What have I gotten into?"

"It's what _we_ have gotten into," Penda corrected. "I'm in this right along with you. It'll be hard, but let's not forget what we have both been through to get aboard this ship. Both pirate groups that went up against us are now dead. So far, I think we are pulling good odds."

Qulanda laughed. "From here on out, you are in charge of all inspirational speeches."

"Is that a order from the captain?"

"Signed and witnessed."

Penda gave a mock salute. "Then I shall do my best to serve, my captain."

Qulanda held Penda's gaze for a long moment. "It still doesn't seem real," she said. "I had convinced myself that you were gone—something I said I would never do. How can you forgive me for giving up on you?"

"There is nothing to forgive. Are you at fault for living your life? Would you be any better off if you had stayed in Visola waiting for someone else to make your choices for you? I love you dearly, Qulanda, but I am not your beginning and ending. That is right here." She tapped Qulanda's chest. "I can demand much from you, just as you can from me, but I cannot ever ask you to give up your right to live your own life.

"By seeing that you chose life when you thought I was lost makes me happy. I want to know that if the day ever comes when I am truly gone that you will keep on living. Your life is your greatest gift, Qulanda Rinter; embrace it."

That said, Penda leaned down and kissed Qulanda long and hard. "Now," she said when they parted, "is it a little more real?"

Qulanda nodded and smiled. "You know Kemp is probably waiting." Mischief danced in her blue eyes.

"I know." Penda trailed a line of wet kisses down the hollow of Qulanda's throat.

"And those women are waiting for the ship's captain."

Penda reached Qulanda's collarbone and continued lower.

"Plus there must be a pile of paperwork waiting—after all, it's complicated running a ship."

"Very complicated," Penda agreed. She paused in her journey down Qulanda's body. "There are a lot of people waiting for us. A lot of people depending on us now." She rested the palms of her hands on the guide's flat stomach. "What do you think we should tell them?"

Qulanda thought for half a second and smiled. "To go burn in the underworld." Her smile turned into a giggle and she pulled the sheet over herself and Penda.

Their laughter carried out into corridor and drew a couple of surprise stares from passing crewmembers. Elsewhere pirates plotted, businesses scrambled to reestablish shipping contracts, a ship full of former prisoners waited for their captain, and mysteries of the Great Hyrulian Sea waited for explorers. For now, however, Qulanda was happy to let all of those things wait for another day. She was enjoying a short respite from all of her responsibilities.

****

End.


End file.
